Blue Sky on Fire
by Heather Cat
Summary: When Elena and Rude disappear, a jaded Reno begins to uncover a massive conspiracy that will change the world forever. And it is only the beginning.
1. Part1

**Blue Sky on Fire**

**Part 1 – The Beginning**

You stand before me now we stare eye to eye  
Before another second clicks away one of us will die.  
You reach for your metal as I reach for mine  
The sound of bullets flyin' through the air, is followed by a cry  
  


And they're cryin'  
  
What will we do? What will we say?   
When it's the end of this game that we play?  
Will we crumble into the dust my friend?  
Or will we start this game over again?  
  
The young man lays alone but fastened to the ground  
The sounds of fleeting feet and a cryin' eye will be his last sound.  
What did we gain from all of this? Now was it worth a life?  
We've thrown all our hopes away and set our dreams aside  
  
Now we're cryin'  
  
What will we do? What will we say?  
When it's the end of this game that we play?  
Will we crumble into the dust my friend?  
Or will we start this game over again?  
  
It's coming back to me. It's coming back to me.  
  
What will we do? What will we say?  
When it's the end of this game that we play?  
Will we crumble into the dust my friend?  
Or will we start this game over again?

**Dangerous Game - 3 Doors Down******


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Reno sauntered down the Midgar street, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world as if he hadn't a care. This was a lie of course, but he would never let on. His footsteps rang dully on the grey pavement beneath him, and he padded down the cracked sidewalks with an absent set to his features. He blended in well with his surroundings - tall dark buildings and colorless pavement. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a dark navy blue jacket. The jacket was an odd, almost formal addition, but Reno had never cared what anyone else thought. And he was very fond of that jacket.

His shocking red hair hadn't changed any in the two years that had passed since Meteor's destruction, unruly and lazily tied back in something that could be loosely be called a ponytail. Cool blue eyes still watched the world with humour. Despite his outward appearance, however, Reno had changed a lot.

A lot could happen in two years, and Reno had seen both the best and the worst of it. Even after everything he could still look back and laugh, albeit somewhat bitterly.

After their defeat at the hands of AVALANCHE, the Turks had regrouped in Sector 3, under the plate. They had needed time to think, and to figure out what the world would hold for a group like them after everything that had happened. Reno could remember vividly the dark, grungy, metallic place called an inn where they'd lain low. It had been clear from the start that the Turks were obsolete. But just for a little while they'd tried to hold on, tried to keep it together… But reality can only be held at bay for so long. Rude had friends, and Elena had a family and a place to stay until they found work. Reno had none of the above. Elena had asked both of them to come with her, of course, but only Rude had agreed.

Reno had his people too; they just happened to be the ones he either never wanted to see again or knew he never would. It didn't bother him. If anything really mattered it lived in his memory, and it was better that way. He had no need for an empty past clinging to him until it dragged him back down with it. No, never. After everything that had happened, he'd been left with only the clothes on his back and his last pay check.

He'd told Elena and Rude that he had friends in the area, watched as they'd gotten on to the last train out of the city, and then headed over to the nearest bar for some serious drinking. Life hadn't been kind to him in the past few months. That wasn't to say that he was out in the cold, though; quite the opposite in fact.

There was plenty of work around Midgar, especially for someone with his talents and background. If you wanted a professional, there was no one with better credentials than him. Besides, the pay was very good. He took odd jobs as a bodyguard or, in special cases, a hired assassin. Reno was very, very good at what he did and there would always be people with money who wanted to hire only the best. Thanks to word of mouth, and occasionally a bullet-to-head, he now lived in a spacious apartment that boasted everything an ex-Turk could think to ask for. Everything he had he'd earned from scratch, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Reno had no illusions about his own place in the world, and he knew that his hands were already bloodier than he'd ever be able to make amends for, even if he tried. Why stop now? It wasn't like there was any place to go, except perhaps back down. Reno had been down in the black hellhole before, and he would be damned if he was going back to that place. His life was a comfortable, numb monotony and he was only half conscious that there was any other way to be.

As his feet moved almost by themselves, Reno found himself almost unconsciously slipping back into the rhythm he'd practically become during his long years as a Turk. Silent, seemingly harmless, but entirely focused and deadly. It just sort of… brought him back. Elena and Rude had promised that they'd get together again, that once their lives were more settled they'd come back for him. But Reno was no fool. No one would come back to these memories if they didn't have to. Himself? He got by by drinking until he couldn't remember his own name.

As an acknowledged and completely unrepentant alcoholic, Reno didn't bother to waste any breath trying to pretend otherwise. He'd been told it would kill him one of these days, but knowing the city he'd decided that that was probably the least of his worries. Every night after he returned home from a job he'd pull out a bottle of whatever happened to be on hand and drink until he no longer felt anything. Pain came freely enough, but it was a hell of a lot harder to get rid of.

Midgar itself had changed a lot in the last two years. You only had to look around you to see that it was true. Meteor had crushed the central part of the city and most of the upper plate into jagged, twisted, unrecognizable spikes of steel and debris. It hadn't been long before the Rebuilding had started, led by Reeve, but personally Reno didn't know why they bothered. All they had succeeded in doing was creating a new piece of hell to replace the one they'd lost. It was cleaner now, sure, and superficially you would almost swear that it looked like a nice, wholesome place to live. But once you hit the poorer areas, the new slums, you only had to pull back the curtain to see that it was just as bad, if not worse than ever. More cutthroat, more desperate, more dangerous.

Led by AVALANCHE, the people had banded together to tear down the old Mako reactors to make way for Jiyuu Co.'s new factories. Reno hadn't cared enough to find out how they worked, though he was aware that the information was available to the public. When Reeve had made that announcement, the public that had been afraid of a new Shinra had cheered the whole damn night away. This was supposed to be a new 'safe and efficient' alternative to Mako. Or so he'd been told. He was rather bitter about the whole thing. Everyone was such a damned hypocrite that it made Reno want to pound his head against the nearest wall.

The streets, cobbled in some of the older parts, were beginning to look black in the fading light. Reno remembered the first sunset in Midgar after all of it. It had rained earlier, and when the sun had dipped over the horizon color had spread until the roads themselves were on fire with it. People had called them streets of rainbow; a good omen. That night even Reno had dared to hope. It seemed so fucking long ago now. Now, the buildings rose oppressively around him as he came to the last corner before his own apartment. Shadows played across his face, with its high cheekbones and twin scars, and the evening breeze ruffled his hair. All in all it was a pleasant enough evening, though far too damp and grey for Reno's taste.

Reno thought about a lot of things in his spare time. There wasn't a lot to do when he wasn't working or passed out on his sofa, so he tried to always be doing one or the other. People in the higher districts who recognized him were afraid, and everyone down here either cringed when he walked in or they snickered.

More than anything he wanted to get out of this contemptible city, but that seemed just another pipe dream. This was where he belonged – a city that was so much like him that it was downright sickening. There was no one waiting to save him, and he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking he'd ever earned such a thing. Still, sometimes he liked to think, or maybe to dream. Maybe… maybe one day he'd take a trip up to visit Rude. Or maybe not.

Slowly but surely, the noise began to intrude on him. Midgar was a place where the constant toil and the sounds of daily life were a dull smog in the background. You either learned how to tune it all out or you went insane. This, however, was different. People were shouting to one another and as Reno rounded the corner he could see a large crowd gathered. He was unsurprised to see the usual rabble there, but to his slight astonishment a few of the more 'respectable' stood muttering to themselves as well. Something was really wrong here. Reno swore. That was his building.

The people, all of them dark and grey themselves in the last dregs of light, were bunched around something or someone. They were trying to help from the looks of it, some of them at least, although he quickly surmised they were probably making whatever it was worse. An occasional young child could be seen running back and forth, ferrying in supplies for whatever was in motion.

For some reason, a shiver ran down Reno's neck. The night suddenly felt a lot colder. For a reason he could not place, he felt a sudden and acute sense of dread in that crowd. He knew this situation, had seen it too many times before, and he knew these people. And yet, something felt profoundly wrong here. He broke into a jog, though his face remained carefully impassive. Stoicism was a Turk trademark after all; in his case it was a paradox that Reno found laughable. Hurrying up to the throng, he casually shouldered people aside in an attempt to get a look at what was happening. He pushed a large man aside as he came to the front, quickly reassuring himself that whatever it was it couldn't concern him. Nothing concerned him, after all.

As he looked down though, he froze. For a second he just stopped and stared.

Shaking it off quickly, he side-stepped past a middle-aged woman to the center of the swarm. A young man, no more than sixteen or seventeen, lay sprawled on the pavement, clutching his side with his last, desperate strength. Someone had tried half-heartedly to apply a bandage but the blood had soaked right through. Reno swore and knelt by the boy's head. He clenched his jaw, his face pale.

"Merdan?" He shook the young man's arm in an attempt to get a response. "Merdan! Fuck, kid, come on!"

The boy, as if recognizing the voice or perhaps the name, opened his eyes with a grimace of pain.

"… Reno?"

Reno looked up at the assembled faces, his own grim.

"What happened here?"

A man nearby looked worriedly on. Reno's tone left no room for anything else. He was afraid to speak, but from the look in Reno's narrowed eyes, keeping quiet might prove even more dangerous. He decided to proceed with caution.

"We don't really know, um, sir, you see about ten minutes ago we hears this almighty bang, and we runs over here, you see?"

Reno gave the man an icy glance before turning back to his wounded friend. The young man was lying literally in his own gore, the color of the shirt he'd been wearing lost to an indistinguishable dark red. He'd been shot, and the bullet had gone right through his ribs.

Swearing with no regard for anyone else, Reno carefully raised the boy before looping one arm around his shoulders and slowly lifting him up. Standing cautiously, he pulled the boy to his feet and stopped short only of actually pulling him over his shoulder. Half carrying the young man, he forced his way bodily through the people and up to his apartment while ignoring the stares he felt boring into his back. No one moved to help him, but then again he hadn't expected them to. He smiled cynically.

Reno fumbled with his key before managing to fit it into the lock. It turned easily enough once he got that far. With a sharp kick the door swung open, and Reno helped Merdan inside before closing it again decisively. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the mostly closed windows. He knew where the light switch was of course, he was a Turk, and rule number two was to always know your surroundings. But for now, he was too concerned with the boy he held to worry about anything else. Manoeuvring over towards a chair nearby, Reno carefully levered Merdan down regardless of the thick, dark red blood already staining his hands. Turning sharply, he moved quickly towards the kitchen. He was gone for only a moment, returning hurriedly with some heavy-duty bandages, wire for stitches and rubbing alcohol. He then crouched down in front of the boy and frowned.

"What the hell happened?" Reno asked as his hands flitted through his medical supplies, choosing what looked appropriate. He wasted no time in getting to the point; there was no time to waste.

The boy coughed weakly, blood coming to his lips. The bullet had obviously pierced his lungs.

"I was… wai- waiting for you." He gasped for air. Reno frowned.

"M-message for you… a message…" He sagged down further into the chair, but Reno's hand shot forward and grabbed his arm.

"Come on kid, you can't go out on me like this. What message?"

Merdan was a young kid whose real age Reno had never actually found out. Before Meteor and before Shinra's ruin he had been a wannabe who had spent all his spare time running errands for the Turks. It was painfully obvious that he didn't have what it took to make the cut, but that didn't stop him from trying. He'd even become a friend of sorts, or at least as much of a friend as an outsider and a Turk could be. All of them had looked out for him. For the past six months or so, he had been dropping in occasionally to see Reno, sometimes with messages from the other Turks. Reno had allowed himself the luxury of becoming rather fond of him.

Ex-Turks, Reno corrected himself. He still thought of them as a group. He waited for the boy to collect his strength again.

"Big trouble… down – Rude said… but he's gone."

Reno gritted his teeth.

"What are you saying? Come on, try." Merdan was slipping away, and the practical part of Reno, the part he called Turk, was taking over. There was no time to try to help the kid; it was too late anyway. Any information he had was needed now. The boy's eyes were dulling and his voice fading.

"Rude and Elena are- gone. Taken." Reno stared at the boy in incomprehension.

"Where? What's happened?"

"Gone… Taken." Merdan whispered, trailing off, his head falling to the side as he drew a wracking, shuddering breath. "To… Mideel." His body, stiffened with pain, slowly relaxed. Reno let go of his arm finally, and he slid down in the chair, his eyes now blank and lifeless. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

Reno stared at the dead boy.

He knelt there for a long time, staring at first at Merdan until his eyes blurred beyond vision. As darkness enveloped the apartment, still unmoving from his spot, Reno wiped his eyes angrily. Everything about him was tense, as though ready to uncoil at any second. Nails dug into his palm.

Finally, Reno stood and walked through the dark corridor towards his kitchen. He had just watched a friend die, and part of him wanted to scream. The other part, however, knew that it would do no good. He cursed himself for doing this every time. You couldn't depend on anyone because the second you did they'd drop dead on you, often because of you.

Reno rummaged through a large oak cabinet before heading over to a small desk near the bedroom surmounted with a mirror. In his left hand he held a bottle of cheap wine. Taking a drink, he stared into the mirror as though he could actually see something in the darkness. Opening the desk drawer he drew out a small, black gun. A deft flip of his hand revealed an extra cartridge, which he expertly loaded before snapping the barrel shut once more. He continued to stare into the mirror with empty eyes.

His hand shaking a little, he brought the bottle to his lips and took another long drink. The corpse in his living room demanded justice that only a Turk could give. But before that, Reno knew that he would go through at least this bottle of wine.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Reno was out on the town tonight, though not on a job. He strolled through the lamp-lit streets and the shadowed alleys with a ground-in familiarity. This time he was fighting one of his own battles. Shallow puddles lay here and there, reflecting the dim yellow light while the damp pavement rang softly with padding footsteps. His walk was purposeful; his shoulders hunched slightly forward to throw his face even further into the shadows. He wanted, needed to take action, but before anything else he'd need some information. His blue jacket was wrapped around him, though not for the cold, and a cigarette glowed faintly at his lips.

Reno couldn't remember how many times Elena had tried to break him of the habit. Once upon a time, long ago, he would stand in Elena's office and absently light up just to see the look on her face. He knew how badly her hands had itched to grab the offending cigarette and throw it out, but she was the rookie and Reno was second in command.

Passing across a wide street, he hurried quickly into the darkness offered by the side street opposite. Outside of work had been a different situation altogether, of course. He remembered vividly the time that Elena had swiped all three of his packs during their day off and had casually tossed them into a nearby swimming pool while he'd frantically pledged his soul to her if she'd just stop. He remembered the green of the water, remembered how it'd reflected in Elena's laughing brown eyes, and remembered the grey concrete neighbourhood and how life had been shit but it didn't matter while Rude and Elena were laughing. The memory jarred him, and he stared moodily into the black night all around him.

He refused to admit he needed them. He didn't. He had lived for two years without them, and he would keep on going just the same as before. Any sign of weakness was viewed with cool disgrace; the last thing he needed was to be reminded of how things had once been, of what they were no longer. No, he would not let anything break him now or ever. The scene in his apartment was already half forgotten.

Midgar came alive at night. In the upper class districts, lights came on until it almost seemed as if the rows of shops and houses were lined by fire. People here lived for the nightlife, and Midgar had been called 'the city that never sleeps' more than once before. Clubs, bars, whatever your particular perversion. You only had to look a few feet to find the nearest party, and Midgar's underworld of music, lights and people had become more famous than the damnable place itself. Down here it was slightly different, but you knew that it was the same beneath the surface. It was rougher and you had to be careful where you walked after dark, but life pulsed here too. Many of the people who waited here you wouldn't want to meet, dark alley or otherwise. And still, if you knew where to look you would find those brave enough, or stupid enough, to throw the night away. Reno knew where to look.

What he was looking for could cost him a lot, but if he played his cards right and dropped a few threats, he might even come out of this in one piece. He didn't care if he earned himself a few more blacklists; he had enough enemies to last him a lifetime as it was. This was what he lived for, and, if necessary, would die for. It never occurred to him there might be something else.

A small, dark coloured door on his left drew Reno's eyes. At first glance, particularly in the shadows, you would miss it entirely. Only upon careful inspection would you realize that you were looking at an entrance of some sort, and even then it seemed to fade into the background all the while you looked at it. It was the same color as the brick wall; covered equally with graffiti and the grime that made city life just what it was. Reno located the door instantly. He'd helped to install it years ago.

He stepped towards the door easily, and only glanced around quickly before wrapping sharply on it twice. He paused for moment, perhaps a space of five seconds or so, and then knocked again once. There was silence for another pause, but slowly the sound of locks being undone and a heavy bar being lifted could be heard from the other side. The wall, or at least this portion of it, swung outwards to reveal a bar of light and a pair of deep purple eyes that narrowed slightly. The bouncer, recognizing him, ushered Reno inside quickly before closing the door behind them.

This was one of the nightclubs that Midgar was renowned for, though perhaps even more select than the fabled ones usually reserved for high society. There were many people here, but every one of them was known to the management and you didn't get in here without high credentials. Reno had always been rather proud that he'd helped to found the place, even if he'd lost his stake in it years ago. The large bar and floor were lit by bright overhead lights, and everywhere was filled with smoke, alcohol, laughter and raised voices. Music played at the far end through speakers almost as tall as Reno, and he could feel it pulsing through the floor and up into his bones. He hadn't been here in too long. Almost with relief, he straightened slightly. There was no room for mistake here, and he replaced the hard set to his eyes with a lopsided smile. Reno was far from stupid, and he knew how to play people.

A long counter sprawled out to his right, lined on one side with bar stools and the other with bottle and glasses. A man of medium height with quick eyes was serving. His gaze twitched almost involuntarily to the newcomer as Reno sauntered over to him.

"Hey Derek."

The barkeep raised a thick eyebrow, and his heavily tanned face crinkled into a good-natured sort of worried smile.

"Well shit. Didn't think I'd see your ass in here for at least another couple of weeks after that last incident." Reno's smile turned into a smirk.

"You know me; I never was one to turn down a good drink."

The man laughed, though his hands busied themselves almost nervously with cleaning a glass that happened to be on hand.

"What'll it be tonight, then?"

"Ah, just the usual."

The man set down the glass with an audible clink. He gave Reno an odd look before his eyes darted to look to some obscure point at one of the tables.

"Well, you better keep it to just two or three tonight, Reno. If I were you I'd watch my back." Reno shrugged and tried not to let his grin fade. Derek gave a slight nod before turning his back and reaching to start pouring the drink. Reno took the opportunity to sit down and survey the hazy bar.

Against one wall, several men were playing an obviously not entirely legal form of pool that seemed to consist mostly of aiming at your opponent's head. Reno was unsurprised to see gil on the table, and a lot of shouting going on. Nearer on hand, people sat and lounged around tables, drinking and talking while others moved about from conversation to conversation. Men and women danced to the pounding music, although a large crowd seemed to have formed around the small stage at the back. A woman with angular eyes and coarse features danced along the front of the stage, doing everything except actually stripping.

Reno, however, had other interests tonight. His gaze fell on one particular man. He wasn't large; smaller than Reno by nearly a head. He didn't stand out at all, with short mousy brown hair, large colorless eyes and an inconspicuously seedy black suit. He sat alone at a table, drinking occasionally from his large mug though his eyes seemed largely fixed on the dancing woman. He didn't even notice as three large men walked over, only finding where his attention should have been when he was yanked up roughly by the collar.

The bartender passed Reno his drink across the counter, and he took it with a nod of thanks before returning to watching. The small man was frog marched across the bar to a corner near the back. No one moved to intercept or help him, each looking the other way easily as though it were a nightly occurrence. The man's protests were easily drowned out by the background noise, and he was thrown unceremoniously into the shadows and against the wall. One of the thugs pulled something out of a concealed pocket and Reno didn't need enhanced eyesight to know that it was probably a knife.

With a half sigh of resignation, Reno put down his glass. It seemed as though he wasn't the only one who had an agenda here tonight. The annoying part was that he was going to have to involve himself, and at this early stage in the game, it was a bad omen. Well, no matter; a dead informant was of no use to any one at all. Standing up, Reno caught the bartender's eye to make sure the man knew he would be back for his drink, and to pay the tab. This wasn't a place for misunderstandings.

He moved through the crowd easily, slipping between people as though it was second nature to him. This club was one of the few places where he didn't have to worry about being recognized; most people knew him already and those that didn't wouldn't see him at all. The smoke, the noise, the overhead lights: he knew it all.

Of the three men surrounding the one against the wall, the taller unarmed man was the one towering ominously forward. A dim glint in his eyes showed that he had somewhat more intelligence than the other two, and a whole lot more malice. Just watching the way he shifted his weight and the way he carried himself, Reno didn't doubt that he had more than a pocket knife hidden away. Great. It would mean nothing to him to take these three down and he was probably overdue for letting out some of this frustration anyway, but it would certainly bring security down on their heads. Toughs like these didn't mean anything, but the smaller man was one of the regulars, and the club didn't approve of anyone moving in on their territory.

The man with the spiked smile leaned over the small man further, sneering down at him.

"So, Dale. Where's the gil?" The little man's eyes were wild, and he cast about frantically.

"I told you I 'ont got it! If you come back tomorrow though, I'll…" A hand snaked out, throwing him back against the wall. When he drew forward again, he also noticed his ear was bleeding. Putting his hand, he drew in a hissing breath.

"What the hell was 'at for? I'll get it for you! I told you I would!" The big man's smile only widened ominously.

"Well, it's like this. You're such a piddling little shit that we could track it down ourselves before the night's over, but I really can't let it be getting round that we let things like this happen without giving you some kind of incentive to do better."

For a moment, it looked as though the small, wiry man was about to be an ear shorter when Reno finally judged it was time to intervene. Sliding coolly forward, he shot out an arm between knife and face. His own smile could probably have frozen at least the first three layers of hell.

"S'cuse me, gentlemen, but I rather need this fellow you're about to decapitate." He matched all three of their glares eye for eye. A more than slightly deadly look was being levelled at him, but Reno probably couldn't have been less bothered. He only watched with detached amusement as the knife-wielding heavy with the scraggly beard stepped towards him in a failed attempt at intimidation.

"Why should we let some piece of shit tell us what to do?" He started to put some momentum behind the blade, but the tallest one, the most dangerous one, lifted his hand to stop him. His smile inched a little wider, ominously.

"Heh, check this little sod out. Look at 'im! He's a bloody Turk." Reno let nothing show on his face while all three of them laughed. "Poor little Turk got no big Shinra to hide behind now. If you think you scare us, you're not just dead wrong, you're dead."

Reno couldn't help it; a grin crept up his lips. The biggest man, the obvious leader, frowned with only mildly suppressed derision and anger when he saw it. With a snort, he tilted his head towards Reno and shot the other two a conspiratorial glance.

"Aw, Turk is all alone in the world. Comes in a little too often than is good for 'im if you know what I mean. Always gettin' roaring drunk; what's wrong, mate? Did your girl leave you? Or maybe you just realized you're the bottom of the heap, the scum of the scum?" His smile became even more unpleasant when Reno said nothing.

Almost flippantly, the man drew a long silver dagger from the depths of his coat. It glittered dully as it caught the overhead lighting

"I've always wanted to find out just how hard a Turk goes down. Guess it's just my lucky night."

His wrist flicked outward to drive the point of the razor-tipped knife into Reno's stomach. He was slightly surprised, however, to find his intended target no longer there. Before he even had a chance to turn around, a sharp stabbing pain behind his right knee caused the man to stumble forward, swearing. He managed to keep his balance, though he had to put out his hand to steady himself. Climbing back up, he turned around to see Reno, standing just where he had been, still smiling faintly. The man's glare darkened.

The other two men began to lurch towards Reno, but their leader stuck out a hand quickly.

"Stop! Keep out of this. I'm going to put the damn Turk in his place, and I don't need any help from you." His eyes, however, trailed towards the little man who was edging away from the wall. "Oh, and make sure he doesn't slip out on us, will you?"

Large hands clapped onto the small man's shoulders, and he only got a shrill yelp before he was shoved roughly back. The lead man, finished composing himself, turned to Reno with a sharp grin. Reno returned it effortlessly.

"You know, if you're going to try to kill someone, you might want to consider not telling them before hand? Gloating is really very amateurish," Reno suggested coolly.

"The day I take advice from a Turk is the day I die."

He lunged forwards, the knife flashing in his hand. His arm flew forward, driving deadly steel in an upward arc that would cut through cloth, skin, and could jar into bone. It met nothing, however, instead only whistling through empty space.

The man began to check his assault, to turn and redirect the attack, but his forward momentum carried him a half-step too far. Before he had a chance to close the opening he had created, with honed precision a fist connected with his stomach and he went over. The man had no chance to stop the fall before Reno's foot lashed out sharply, smashing mercilessly into ribs. The man groaned, but did not get up.

The other two men glared worriedly at Reno, slowly backing away from the small man still standing quivering next to the wall. Reno's smile was barbed, and his eyes never left the faces of the two men. He watched as their eyes swung down towards their boss on the floor, and didn't move. He made no motion at all until with a sudden, almost invisible shift he had the bottle from the table five feet away and was sending it down with a crash across the back of the head of the man who was rising, sure he could get the Turk from the back. He went down again, and this time did not move. Blood trickled to the well-polished floor.

With that, the two cronies broke and fled, leaving Reno feeling a little better but still unsatisfied. Ignoring the lifeless man, he stepped carefully around the inconvenient body and towards the little man who was giving him a grateful and perpetually nervous smile.

"Thanks, Reno. I owe ya' one-"

Reno's face had no smile when he approached, and the man called Dale's smile faltered and failed altogether. Anyone's would faced with the deadly, slitted eyes thatgave nothing away. The man coughed and turned to make a hasty exit.

"I'll just be going now, then…"

Before he could take more than a step, Reno's hand shot out, grasping the back of the man's jacket and flinging him effortlessly forward against the wall once more. Twisting both arms behind his back, Reno pushed until the man could barely breathe. He choked and struggled a little, but was helpless to move.

"Fuck, Reno! What was 'at for?"

"I need some information, Dale, and you're going to give it to me." The man spluttered for a moment.

"What's in it for me?"

"Normally I'd say the usual bribe, but I'm NOT in a good mood right now. Consider your continued existence a small token of my favour." The man blinked.

His cheek pushed up against the wall, his eyes twisted around to look behind Reno. Dale coughed again, and chuckled weakly.

"I think ya' might find that a bit hard, all things considered."

Reno's eyes narrowed, but before he could react, vice-like hands were grabbing him and pulling him away from Dale who collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath. Reno suddenly found himself being held very firmly between five men of varying heights and builds who looked severely unimpressed. They wore the bright red blazers of those employed specially by the club's owner to patrol the place and keep any 'disputes' with paying customers from escalating. They cared nothing about what happened to a client once he was out the door, but if he could pay the tab and he was in, then he would stay safe until he left. Besides, the owner, Jefrin, hated to see things broken.

Now, they fixed Reno with stares that said quite clearly how things would go for anyone who tried to pick a fight right about now. Reno just let himself be restrained, deciding it wasn't worth it. He watched stonily as Dale picked himself up, sniggering to see Reno in his current position. His grin did not last, though, because two of the men in red stepped forward to pick Dale up by each taking an arm.

"He-hey! What are you doing! Put! Me! Down!"

He was, easily disregarded however, and Reno couldn't help but let a tiny smirk cross his face as the five men led, and in one case carried, the two of them along the back wall. The other patrons, for whom this was not an unusual occurrence, casually ignored them. It was a club policy to turn the other cheek. Doing otherwise all too often resulted in serious bodily harm for the interloper. So for now, Reno and the weasel-faced man were led along the long grey wall obscured by smoke and lit only by lights coming from the stage. Their destination was a narrow, inconspicuous door that Reno recognized all too easily. He'd spent many days in there, long ago, laughing it up with the other high rollers who'd been big back in the old days. He remembered it well.

One of the five – the tallest one – moved ahead to open the door while two remained to guard Reno. They were ushered quickly in, and the door was shut quickly and firmly behind them.

The room they entered was large, and dimly lit. It had a red carpet on the floor, though it was stained and littered with cigarette butts and sucked at your shoes. Dark leather couches lined two walls, though they were all but one unoccupied at the moment. Two men in dark glasses that Reno recognized as 'patrons' smirked to see the seven come in.

Against the other wall was a large, heavy desk that was slickly varnished. Behind it sat a slim, middle-aged man with a clean-shaven face and slightly greying hair. He also smiled to see them, though his was purely business-like. He conscientiously shuffled some papers on his desk before turning his attention specifically to them. His eyes, dark brown, sought out Reno's.

"Ah, Reno. What a pleasant surprise. You haven't visited me in some time." Reno returned his smile, letting fake warmth enter his voice.

"It has been a while, hasn't it? I'm sure there hasn't been a day when I didn't long to be back in your company." Jefrin winced a little, though it was obvious he did it purely for Reno's own benefit.

"I see your sarcasm remains as cutting as ever. Really, though. You know perfectly well it was all some big misunderstanding."

"Ten men wearing your colors trying to kill me with a letter bearing your signature giving them permission to do it?"

"Precisely."

"Ah," Reno took the opportunity to look around as the five men finally backed off. "How could I have ever been so blind?" He did not miss the wary, brittle cast that Jefrin's smile assumed for a moment before it reverted back to its previous plastic set.

"I'm glad you've finally seen the light. Anyway, that's old history my friend. What I'm more worried about now is that you've been trying to kill my customers again."

Reno's perfectly edged smile could have cut diamonds.

"So you heard about that, huh? Should have known." He laughed harshly. "Well, don't worry too much. I wasn't going to kill him. I'm sure someone else will take care of that for me eventually. I just wanted some information."

Jefrin nodded, looking calculatingly in Dale's direction. Dale was currently slumped against one wall, trying to make himself as small as possible, much to the amusement of the two men on the couch. Jefrin just looked mildly intrigued.

"Was it so important that you had to disregard all the normal niceties? Of course, I know that times are tough for you, Reno, but tut tut." His grin broadened when he saw Reno's look.

"Well then, I know that you are not one to get worked up about nothing. So you must tell me what it is you are looking for, and we shall see if we can persuade our little friend here to tell us what he knows."

Dale shrank even more perceptibly, and Reno stared at him for a moment, calculating the possible gains and losses. It seemed harmless enough, but men like Jefrin never did anything unless there was something in it for them. Well, it wasn't like there was a lot of choice, at this point.

"A man was shot dead near my apartment tonight, and I need to find out who did it." His level voice and blank face carefully betrayed nothing.

"Hell, Reno! Any of the local bastards could have done that!" He laughed, and Reno's chill smile returned for a fleeting instant before disappearing as fast as it had come.

"He still had his wallet."

Jefrin nodded thoughtfully. "When you put it that way… Yes, I see your point." He swung his gaze back to Dale who'd been forcibly pushed forward by one of the men in red. He was shaking pathetically, and he shook his head frantically when he felt all the stares come to rest on him.

"I don't know shit."

Reno exchanged glances with Jefrin, who nodded to one of the guys behind Dale who immediately picked him up with ease and knocked him against the wall once, and then again for good measure.

"Ok! Hell!" Dale spat, flailing to get loose. "There was a guy in here earlier…"

"This guy?" Reno's contempt went undisguised.

"He wasn't one of the normals! I'm tellin' ya!" Dale's voice was desperate, and his eyes swung from Reno to Jefrin to the man who was holding him. Only Jefrin was smiling, his chin resting on one of his hands. He watched, apparently fascinated, taking in the scene with vast amusement. Reno just looked non-plussed.

"So, talk."

"E' was really tall, with long black hair. E' didn't drink anything or leave his name. E' was askin' questions 'bout the Turks, though." Reno looked at him in surprise. "I swear it's the truth! He wore black and had a long red cape."

Reno nodded to the man holding Dale who gave him one last violent shake before putting him down carefully onto the carpet. He looked vaguely as though he were going to be sick, and he appeared to be working out his chances of getting to the door before someone really did kill him.

"You _absolutely_ sure he didn't leave a name or anything?" cut in Reno, obviously annoyed with the man's defensive stupidity.

"Yeah! Maybe… I think he mentioned it after all… Yeah I think he did. Valentine! It was Valentine!"

Jefrin turned to look at Reno, still smiling brightly, while Dale quivered. All eyes were once again on Reno, who just stared.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

The darkness was his only cover as Reno crept across the rooftop, the gun in its holster, EMR in hand and two throwing knives concealed within his jacket. It was one thing to be brave, but quite another to be stupid. Reno was a Turk, and as such never walked into anything unprepared if he could help it.

It was probably about three hours until dawn when Reno reached the small house Vincent Valentine called home. It rose up, a dark silhouette in the gloom, slightly better maintained than most of the other houses in the area. A short, slatted roof offered cover and possibilities for entry, but the second floor window looked much more promising. The walls offered enough traction for climbing, and there were no lights he could see coming from inside. With any luck he'd be able to take Valentine by surprise, but Reno sincerely doubted that.

Vincent Valentine could best be described as a recluse. He lived by himself in a small, obscure home in the east of Midgar. No one around the place knew who he was or cared to find out; he was just another face in their daily routines that came and went without bothering them. He worked somewhere, presumably, since he caught the train at the station first thing every morning. Some evenings he returned with groceries, and others he didn't. Other than that, he was an unknown and that was all there was to it.

Outside the east quarter, however, he was something of a legend. The mysterious gunslinger had not only helped to bring down Sephiroth two years ago, but was also widely known to be the best shot in the city, and quite possibly the world. His abilities with his weapon of choice were almost mythical, and young boys who knew the story of AVALANCHE looked up to him and aspired to be just like him.

Besides that, however, no one knew much about Vincent. He kept to himself mostly, keeping as low a profile as he possibly could. None of his neighbours knew if he had any friends, and many would have been quite surprised to find out that he occasionally dropped by the newly opened Seventh Heaven bar to visit Tifa and whoever else happened to be around. He worked at a gunsmith's to earn his living because he would never have condoned living off of the money they'd been showered with just after Meteor. It was no small secret though that if he chose to he could put every sharp shooter in Midgar out of business.

The man would never have any such desire, of course, but it was the perpetual fear of every marksman. Reno found the whole thing vaguely amusing. His own knowledge of Valentine's current affairs was not much more detailed than anyone else's, although he'd experienced the amazing gunmanship first hand. Also, he was probably the only living person on the Planet, with the possible exception of Reeve, to have read through Valentine's files. He'd skimmed the past stuff back then, concentrating mostly on the profiles of known strengths and weaknesses; stuff that was vital to the mission. It would have to be enough.

Anyway, none of Vincent's doings bothered Reno particularly because of the simple fact that he was going to kill the man. First, he would find out in the most deadly and excruciating means possible why Valentine had killed Merdan, and then he was going to kill him. If Reno died in the process, well, that was just another possible outcome. Not that he intended to die tonight, but he was a realist and the possibility was always there.

The night hid Reno entirely as he scaled his way down from the overhang, finding foot and hand holds where to a less-trained eye there would be nothing. His dark jacket wrapped around him, the same color as the sky.

The drainpipe descended on his right, and went straight down past the window. Deciding to take his chances on it, he swung acrobatically across before sliding quickly and efficiently toward his destination. Kicking one foot out to carefully and quietly slow himself, he came to rest softly beside his target, about six inches from the window. Reno withdrew a tiny blade that was no wider than his finger. Ever so slowly, he reached across, balancing his weight on the narrow windowsill, before gently and expertly cutting a circle with a diameter approximating the span of his own hand.

Re-sheathing the tiny glasscutter, he eyed the window critically. The next movement would be dangerous, so it required all of his concentration. The window was a double and fairly wide, and the sill reached out about two inches all around the window. Nodding imperceptibly, he moved back to get the leverage he needed.

Using only the drainpipe and the wall, Reno swung away as hard as he could, using the momentum to swing up to the window ledge and grip it with both hands. In one deft movement he was up, setting his back up against one side of the window, and using his feet to keep himself from plummeting down.

Gradually, he leaned forwards. This was something Tseng had taught him years and years ago just before a stealth mission. While he'd mostly improved on a lot of the techniques and invented his own where that failed, this one had stuck with him. Very carefully, he placed his hands along the outline of the newly cut circle, thumbs and forefingers touching to seal off the crack entirely. He waited. Gently, the sensation of pressure building against the palms of his hands could be felt. He could feel the glass pressing against his fingers, and, with a half smile, he pulled steadily outwards. With only a small whisper, the glass fell softly into his outstretched hands.

There was no need for the extra glass, except to keep it from making sound, so Reno placed it out of harm's way on the far end of the window ledge before proceeding.

Although Valentine was a former Turk, he feared little in the way of alarms. Who would be stupid enough to try to break into the house of a former member of the group that saved the fucking world? Besides him, he meant. Anyone who didn't know what they were doing would probably be shot through the temple instantly by the resident, even if he or she managed to get as far as inside. No, there was little to no reason for alarms, so Reno reached his hand into the hole in the glass confidently and was rewarded with silence.

The latch on the inside of the window was easy enough to undo, and a quick survey of the slides found it easy enough to open and well greased. Reno had no trouble at all sliding it open and propping it that way to secure an escape route. It was not especially cold tonight, so there would be little change in temperature to alert Valentine should he still be awake.

A quick peer into the gloom showed nothing unusual, so Reno took a chance and swung his legs over and inside. His feet hit what seemed to be a wood floor, and he automatically adapted his steps to rolling ones to minimize unnecessary sound.

The house was well maintained. In fact, it looked hardly lived in. Reno noticed this peculiarity first, even amongst the shadowy furniture. He found himself in what seemed to be a study of sorts; all four walls were covered by mahogany bookshelves, with a coffee table in the center featuring a globe as centerpiece, a long, unused looking sofa and the door presumably just out of Reno's sight behind one of the shelves. Standing up straight, he kept next to the wall and took in everything he could. The furniture was expensive, but about the only thing that looked used were the stacks of books that were stacked on top of the table and shelved in perfect alphabetization along the walls.

Out of curiosity and a lack of any feeling of imminent danger, Reno took a step towards the shelves. Even just a quick appraisal of the collection showed it to be filled with books of every kind: fantasy, science fiction, biographies, and quite a lot of philosophy and medical science. He was rather surprised as his eyes ran along the spines of the hundreds of novels and collections; he'd never thought of Valentine as a reader.

"And what else am I supposed to do in my spare time, exactly?"

The cold, monotone voice that seemed almost to read his mind froze Reno where he stood. He fought to regain control of his legs, and turned to face his enemy.

Vincent Valentine stood in the shadows of one of the shelves, next to the door, blue moonlight falling across the part of his face not hidden by his cloak. Long, dark hair fell across his shoulders and across his face, especially black in the shadows. His crimson eyes watched Reno easily in the darkness, calculating.

"You might as well have used the door. I've been waiting for you."

Each sentence was crisp and unfeeling. Reno cursed. Valentine had been able to predict his every action, and accurately to from the looks of things. Reno thought quickly, his thoughts racing. The only way out of a tight situation was unpredictability; it had been his trademark and his saving grace more than once back when Shinra was still around. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Vincent, a smile on his face.

"Oh, I don't know, Valentine. I kinda expected you to be out sucking people's blood or something." The tall gunner did not so much as blink. His face remained carefully unchanged, impassive.

"I believe you and I have something to settle."

Reno said nothing.

"Neither of us will be satisfied until the other is dead. You know this. I know this." He stared fixedly for a moment longer. "Let us commence." Reno watched him without fear, but with apprehension.

In the beat of a heart, Reno had rolled behind the thick, dark green sofa as the first carefully aimed bullet smoked into the floor where he had been standing only an instant before. Reno acted quickly, knowing fully well that survival depended on perfect timing. The couch afforded him little cover, and he probably had only seconds before Valentine would work out how to get at him while keeping himself covered. The problem was that there was nothing else in the room. Yes, Valentine had set this trap well.

What did he have that he could use? Not a hell of a lot. In the confines of his head, he swore violently. Did he have a chance? Probably not, but he was a Turk and Turks did not work based on chances. They worked for pride, for revenge and for the fight itself. There was no room in that kind of a world for chances. So now, time almost seeming to slow around him as he heard the muffled click of Valentine taking aim, his hand shot into his pocket and pulled out a small yellow and blue matchbook. Deft fingers repeating an action they knew too well at high speed, a match came alight and his hand shot out.

Vincent didn't realize what was coming at him when he saw the tiny light fly forwards; only realized that he was about to be hit and ducked out of the way. The three seconds this took were just enough for Reno to shoot forward from behind the couch, gun in hand and finger already closing around the trigger.

Silver fire blazed out, and the crack of each shot rang through the silence. Reno never stopped moving as he crossed the room with his back to a shelf, using the pistol for cover fire. It seemed to him almost to be slow motion as Valentine ducked down, cape billowing down around him, his own pistol at the ready as its muzzle came up to match Reno's own. He heard the answering shots; saw Valentine start to move as burning bullets streamed across the room.

The next move was his. Checking his motion suddenly with a last dire hope of throwing Valentine off, he virtually threw himself forward. Too soon the gun cracked again, and Reno dropped down instinctively, turning the pitched dash into a roll. He came up on his knee sharply against the coffee table, and let his ground-in instant reactions do the work. His hands and right foot darted out, and books went flying everywhere followed by another volley from the gun.

His foot connected almost agonizingly with the edge of the table, but it went up, and then he was down again, using his shoulder to push it up as a makeshift shield. He stopped only when it came to rest perfectly on its end, just a little under a foot taller than him. The only sound in the room was breathing. Valentine's, and his, he realized. The stillness lasted only a second.

Reno threw all his weight against the table, as time seemed to roar back with full force all about him. In the half of a second before he was moving again, he registered that he only had five bullets left in the cartridge, but there was nothing to be done.

As the table toppled over with an ear-shattering crash Reno took an all or nothing dive for the sofa again. Too late. He heard something from the right, and he lashed out with his left hand, shooting somewhat frenetically towards the sound as dove for the gap. How many bullets were gone now? All of them? He had no time to count as he went sprawling into the floor, using a desperate kick off from the floor to try to get completely out of range. The last thing he saw before he disappeared again from sight was Valentine stepping calmly back into the shadows of the shelf next to the door. Right back where both of them had started. Appropriately, Reno let himself silently swear violently, times two.

What was left? No time to check the gun. Better to assume it was empty, and only rely on it if things got really bad. No time to reload. All right. That left only one thing to try.

He was thinking like a Turk again, he realized dimly as he reached for the daggers. All motives were forgotten and only the battle, the moment remained. Tseng had told him that once too, hadn't he? That when it came down to the wire, it was what separated the true Turk from the pretenders. Not just the drive for survival, but also the drive for blood, for the struggle. The need to see the opponent's blood spattered against everything. Perhaps it was true. All Reno knew as he pulled his knee up was that this was life and this was death and this was what a Turk was.

All Valentine saw was the dark shadow erupt from the behind the couch, saw it twist towards him and a left arm go back for a throw. Somewhat caught off guard, it took him a fraction too long to swing the pistol around. What looked like liquid silver drove straight for him and he saw another one coming too. In that moment, all he could do was take the step he had room for and hope it was enough.

Down again, Reno heard the pointed thud of the daggers hitting… what Valentine? The wall? He stood where he was for the space of three breathes: poised, hidden. But all around him there was only the absolute silence of nothingness. No, there was nothing left for it but to take a chance and lay himself open to surprise attack.

Ever so slowly, he stood up. Eyes pierced the darkness, hunting warily for the deadly silhouette that was the gunman. He did not need to look far.

Valentine stood against the wall, closer to the door than he had been, almost statue-like in his frozen stillness. His cloak was pinned by two daggers, embedded deeply in the wall. He blinked, watching Reno carefully, although his gun was lowered. Puzzled, Reno stood up straight to face Vincent. He had missed, and he should be dead. Reno was unable to see the gunman's face now, lost in the shadow of the bookshelf as it was, but it did not matter. His eyes trained to the gun itself. It was the only thing that mattered.

Valentine's voice startled him.

"Nice throw."

Of course it had been a nice throw. You didn't waste your entire life the way Reno had without picking up a few tricks along the way. You were either competent, or you died. Vincent just nodded.

"I think we should leave." Reno just stared at him uncomprehendingly, gun held tightly in his left hand and fingers at the ready to test how many bullets he'd shot earlier. Valentine still showed no trace of emotion or concern in either his voice or countenance.

"We should remove to elsewhere. I fear that shooting holes in my furniture may be counterproductive." Reno stared at him for a moment longer before answering with a carefully chosen word.

"What?"

Valentine slowly stepped forwards, his gun always by his side to indicate he was no immediate threat unless menaced. The faint light slid across his face again, and his eyes burned into Reno's. There was no humour there, only a deadly intelligence whose intentions seemed highlighted by the bloody red of his gaze. Reno was beginning to feel definitely edgy. He coughed.

"Right, vamp-boy. Where did you have in mind?"

His own voice sounded papery to him; unreal and certainly nothing like the cocky bastard he was trying very hard to be right now. Valentine only watched him, eyes always reading, understanding. Reno hated it.

"Anywhere. Although I suggest the old highway."

Reno just let himself nod, not trusting himself to speak. He had no quick line that hadn't died in the bonfires of Vincent's ice-cold stare. He watched somewhat dumbfounded as Valentine turned his back on him and disappeared out the hallway door without a suggestion of fear. Looking down to stare at his own gun now, Reno neatly checking something he'd suspected.

He looked back up at the door and wondered if Valentine had known it was empty.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

A thick cloud of exhaust filled the air as a motorcycle darted down an open stretch of road. It was black and silver, sleek with a matte paint job and a quick hotwiring job that pointed to the fact that the rider probably wasn't its owner. Reno leaned across the drag bars, keeping his head down as much as possible as he shot down the deserted street.

Tires churned against stained pavement that was broken here and there in patches, and Reno leaned sharply to the left to bring the bike bearing hard towards a long run of shadows stretching out beckoningly from the upcoming tunnel. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed no sign of Valentine, but he didn't dare slow down even a little.

No time to think about hitting the high beams as he shot into the darkness; it wasn't worth giving away his position that easily. He was confidant that his better than average night vision would see him through regardless. As the walls and roof closed in above him, he knew he had to concentrate on the road ahead to get out again, but it was against all his instincts not to scan everywhere. Granted, he couldn't hear anything to indicate pursuit, but it was only a matter or time.

What bothered him the most was that he didn't have a clue in hell what was going on. The simple truth was that he'd crept into Valentine's house expecting little or at least brief resistance, some answers, and some pointed violence. Instead he'd gotten… this.

The sound of pebbles thrown up by the wheels sent a fresh wave of cold uncertainty sweeping through him, and he gritted his teeth somewhat in anger and sheer concentration. Halfway out. He swerved violently to the right again to avoid a chunk of collapsed cement. No, he didn't like this at all.

Why the hell did Valentine propose a duel out here anyway? It was like Reno had mortally insulted him. Well, the vampire jokes didn't really count. Those were just Reno's way of convincing himself that he wasn't afraid. And trying to kill Valentine a couple of times didn't really count as a motive either; he supposed enough people in the history of the gunman's life had tried before. This was… really, really stupid. And yet, here they both were, each bent on being the only one to reach the finish line.

Most unnervingly he didn't know where Valentine had gone. As unsettling as that was Reno trusted he'd find the former-AVALANCHE member ready and waiting sooner rather than later. After all, this had been Valentine's game from the very beginning, damn him. Nothing made sense here. Here he was, having walked into a shootout with the most feared gunman in Midgar with no real plan. It was completely unlike him, but it wasn't exactly like Valentine had given him an alternative. Still, it was almost like something was driving him forward towards this confrontation, hoping both of them would wind up dead…

No, the more he tried to grasp the idea, the more it slipped away. Anyway, no time to worry about that. He could see the end of the tunnel now, the sky that was slowly growing lighter and lighter almost like a home-free beacon in the distance.

Suddenly a dull thud reverberated through the tunnel. Reno gripped the handle a little more tightly, but in the dark he could see nothing behind him. Still, he couldn't hear anything… No, there was the sound of another motorcycle. It seemed muffled, though, as though far away, or obscured by something. What in the seven hells was Valentine up to now? If he didn't know any better, he'd almost have said that Valentine was on the roof of the tunnel… Shit. He was, wasn't he? Dammitdammitdammitdammit.

It was too late to turn back now, and in the narrow tunnel there wasn't room anyway. Reno would have to stop to change direction, and Valentine would know instantly. He'd probably use the same insane short cut he'd found to get up there to head him off anyway. No, there was nothing for it but to keep going.

Only two choices presented themselves. To slow down or speed up? If he slowed down and Valentine indeed pulled what he believed he was going to, then he'd have him in full view, although there was no way he'd be able to keep out of sight that way. If he took a risk and gave it as much speed as he could, he might be able to find a way to catch Valentine out by losing him, although until he did he'd be completely open to all attacks from the rear. Well, either way, it was going to be a last minute decision. The entrance loomed, and Reno made an instant choice.

In that split second period he pulled sharply on the brakes. Just in time, a dark shape trained by a cape that billowed out behind it shot forward and seemed to fly through the sky for a moment. The second bike landed with a crunch on the pavement and Valentine sped off into the dark. Still just in the edge of the shadows, Reno grinned ferally before tightening his hand around the clutch. Then he was off in pursuit, giving it as much speed as he could.

The roar of the engines coming alive again caused Valentine to look back, and all Reno could see was the cold glitter of the man's red eyes. Reno didn't think, didn't even have to really register their change in positions before his hands were reacting for him. One hand still on the handle for steering, the other darted quickly to his jacket where his gun lay in wait. He whipped it forwards and let off four shots in quick succession.

Valentine's reflexes were at least as quick as his, however, and he wove to the right and then the left again at the first sound of gunfire. Three bullets hit only pavement, and the fourth managed only to trace a scratch across the back of the other stolen, dark green bike.

Reno's eyes narrowed as he saw his quarry escaping. The ages-old pale scars under each eye outlined the cold, meticulously calculating look that haunted his face. There was a pattern in Valentine's dodging, and he could pick it out and adapt it to get a better shot, he knew. Unconsciously, he'd already accounted for the back and forth turns his enemy was employing to throw him off. Also, Valentine's trick was losing him speed, and slowly but steadily Reno was gaining ground.

He took aim again, and felt the gun crack as he pulled down on the trigger. As fast as he could, he let off another two quick, successive shots. He'd reloaded before coming down here, of course, and having learned from his previous mistake he'd made sure he had another cartridge easily on hand.

Again, as before, at the sound of the first shot Valentine instantly changed his movement, going straight off to the right and completely avoiding all three shots entirely. Reno's usually cold anger was beginning to gain heat. His face darkened, and he too veered off to the right to follow Valentine's path. It was a deadly game of cat and mouse, alright, and he would not be the one to lose.

Just as he was lining up the next shot, however, Valentine pulled a sharp, almost ninety degree left, effectively disappearing from Reno's sight as well as his range. Never letting his surprise throw him off, Reno continued down the trail Valentine had taken, scanning continually to the left for wherever the man had vanished to.

If he hadn't been watching closely, he would have missed it entirely. It was a mostly blocked off-ramp, but a section of the fallen masonry had crumbled away thanks to time and bad weather, leaving a small space just big enough for the two of them to get by. Taking a deep breath, Reno ducked down as low as he could, and pulled to the left.

He felt the side of the bike grind against something, but in a moment it was free again. Anyway, it wasn't like it was his bike or anything. High above, the sky was beginning to show the first streaks of gold and pale rose as dawn crept ever closer. The chill air of the very early morning crept into everything, except the two riders on the abandoned highway. Reno, focused entirely on finding the dark man ahead of him somewhere, never noticed. His red hair stood out against the pale sky and the dark road, and the flames inside him leaped a little higher.

He felt exhilarated, and he felt very much alive; he also felt frustration and fear warring for his notice. He simply ignored them all. Adding a little more speed, he continued warily on.

This way would eventually lead back to the highway, he knew. It was only a detour for Valentine, a desperate measure to gain some distance that would undoubtedly fail. He smiled a little, ironically, knowing that it was probably exactly what he would have done had he taken the lead.

This was part of the old highway that had been proposed to link Midgar with the rest of the world, starting with Kalm, but as Shinra had grown more powerful eventually all efforts in the road's direction had fallen away. Reeve had talked about continuing it, he knew, and it was currently under consideration, but it was in such a state of disrepair after a decade of neglect that it would have to be entirely scrapped and started over from the beginning. He'd heard that on their escape from Midgar, Strife and company had gone this way. Pity it hadn't killed them, really.

This section of road was no different from the rest of it, perhaps worse. Everywhere were piles of junk: steel beams for construction, streetlights on odd angles or fallen entirely, and large slabs of concrete for the siding. Reno wove in and out of them, knowing all the while that Valentine was using every moment of this to his benefit. What he needed now was some way to turn the tables on the gunner, something that would once again put him right behind Valentine.

A Turk's eye for detail was what picked out the ramp to the left. Some workers long ago had probably used it to put up side panels, but yes, it would serve his purpose. All deadly alertness, Reno eased into the clutch to give the bike enough speed to top the ramp. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile. He would turn Valentine's own trick back on him, and he'd do it with flare.

It was one quick fluid shot, a forward and up movement, and as the front wheel cleared the top of the ramp, Reno felt his blood race. As he went up and over he searched with his eyes for Valentine. He couldn't be too far ahead, not in here.

It took only a few seconds, but Reno could've sworn that it felt a hell of a lot longer. He turned slightly to try to see everywhere as the bike began its descent, and he finally caught sight of the gunner. He was down below the ramp, casually sitting there and watching Reno go over the top coolly and disinterestedly as if he were watching grass grow. The slight smirk on Reno's face was gone as he touched down, and he instantly jammed down on the clutch. The sudden burst of speed almost threw him off, but he didn't care at this point.

Oh. Shit. Well, apparently he wasn't the only one who was good at ripping off the tricks of others. At least the road was somewhat clearer here, he thought as he heard Valentine kick start his bike again. Trying to put as much distance between the two of them as he could, his hands tightened around the handles until his knuckles were white.

Hair whipping our behind him, he tore forwards with as much speed as the bike would give him. Just ahead he could see where the highway workers had given up, and had built a haphazard link back to the main road to make it easier to get the trucks and mixers back up. Throwing everything he had into it, Reno made a last ditch attempt for a way out.

He took the path at full speed, managing to effectively launch himself up into the air again. The sound of Valentine closing the distance triggered something at the back of his head.

He didn't want to lose this. He didn't want to leave Merdan just another dead body that nobody gave a shit about. He didn't want to die not knowing where Rude and Elena were or what had happened to them. He remembered in a quick flash of lights propping up the dead kid that had been his friend on a bench three blocks away from his apartment. He remembered calling an ambulance from an anonymous pay phone before disappearing into the dark to go find Dale at the club. He'd known that no one would say anything about earlier; everyone had their own secrets to hide after all.

Reno's jaw tightened, and the anger flared even more. God fucking damn! Merdan had been a good kid! He deserved a lot better than the pothole grave he was almost certain to find. His family might receive a notice of his death, but that was only a maybe.

He remembered the kid laughing, and he remembered him bleeding. And with that last memory, he lashed out. With what was almost a growl, he shouldered the bike to his left so that it hit the pavement in the direction from which he'd come. He didn't stop, however. He used the sudden decrease in speed to continue the turn he'd started in midair. Coming full circle he was just in time to see Valentine roar out and start away in front of him. Once again Reno had the advantage, but it was no comfort.

Anger and hatred burning through him, he followed.

The end of the highway was not too much further ahead, Reno knew. He reached for his gun again. In truth, he preferred the EMR for any type of combat, but he had long ago learned the advantages of versatility. Anything else could kill you.

Valentine swerved right again, and Reno didn't have time to follow, or even really wonder before it became clear what the gunman was trying to do. Neither did he have time to slow down.

Valentine was pulling a curve exactly like Reno had just done, but he was doing it at full speed. Everything in Reno said that he shouldn't be able to make it, as the bike screeched around leaving dark skid marks on the pavement.

And yet, somehow, he did make it. Reno never really understood how, only that an incredible amount of raw skill was involved. All he saw was Valentine bearing down on him, gun out, the distance between them lessening each millisecond that ticked by. Running on adrenaline alone, Reno didn't really feel the first bullet rip along the side of his right arm. He did the only thing he could think of. He dropped.

Throwing his shoulder as far to the right as he could without the bike dropping completely, he kicked away from it. He hit the pavement at high speed, and he felt his sleeve ripped to tatters and his arm being shredded along with it. He only managed to get his leg clear just in time while the bike spun out of control thanks to the sudden move from its former ride. It skittered along the pavement, throwing sparks everywhere before colliding with the nearest wall in a sort of miniature explosion of concrete and sparks.

Reno never let himself slow down, never let himself feel the pain all down his arm. All he knew was that Valentine was also off his bike, running his way. He rolled up onto his left foot, gun coming out in a sharp upward arc. The next thing he knew, he was standing, facing Valentine, each one's gun pointed directly at the head of the other.

There was silence for a moment, and Reno watched somewhat dizzily as Valentine just stood, the stoic, aloof expression never leaving his face. He considered briefly just pulling the trigger, but even now he knew that should he manage to even pull it, he too would be dead. Well, perhaps this was it then, but he had a question first. He felt the anger flare up again, as though in response to his noticing it, and he glared furiously at the dark man he faced. His eyes burned accusingly into Valentine's.

"Why?"

Valentine's face creased into the most light of frowns, but he did not answer. The silence seemed to further anger Reno, and he felt all his frustration and rage boiling to the surface.

"Son of a bitch, why did you kill him?" His shout echoed through the once again silent concrete forest.

Valentine's incomprehension showed plainly on his face now.

"…Who?"

The earliest morning breeze ruffled Reno's hair. It was rather dishevelled, the usually sloppy ponytail even worse than normal. However, there was nothing comical about the expression on his face. Lip curled back, he practically spat at the tall gunner.

"Merdan, bastard! The kid you shot on my fucking doorstep!" And then through clenched teeth, "A friend of mine that I got to watch die, thanks _so much _for that."

Valentine's crimson eyes widened a fraction, the first true sign of surprise or emotion he'd yet shown. He stared straight at Reno. He wasn't in great shape either, Reno noticed for the first time. It looked as though he'd managed to rip his right leg open somewhere along the way, probably down on the off-ramp among all the debris. Still, it looked as though he could've gone on for another very long time. There wasn't a trace of weariness to be seen.

Reno also noticed that the older man still seemed young almost to a fault, no older than himself certainly although much different. He personally knew it wasn't true, but looking the man in the eye now, if he hadn't read those files oh so long ago he would never have believed it.

To Reno's utter surprise, Valentine slowly lowered his gun. His arm dropped almost involuntarily, and his eyes never left Reno's, his already pale face losing whatever color it had left. The gun hung by his side, although the barrel of Reno's remained determinedly pointed between his eyes.

"I… do not know what you're talking about."

The words struck Reno like a blow.

"You're lying!"

Valentine carefully shook his head, trying to show his denial without causing the other to pull the trigger. Still not lowering the gun, Reno cast about frantically for an answer.

"Even if that were true… and I'm sure as hell not saying it is, why the hell would you be out here trying to shoot me?" His anger was directed less at Valentine now, and more at the world in general for putting him here.

"…It was about a week ago." Valentine's voice was quiet, and Reno listened with unnatural intensity. "Someone tried to kill me."

"Oh, that explains everything!" Reno snarled, throwing out his free hand. "Since you used to be a member of AVALANCHE, obviously the only person who would want to kill you is an ex-Turk!"

Again, Valentine just shook his head.

"My… mechanical arm took the hit." He obviously did not want to speak, and his long dark hair fell across his face, hiding whatever expression might have been there. He forced himself to continue. "I also received a letter that day, but it is not the reason. When I was making repairs, I extracted the bullet lodged in the circuitry. It was… a very special kind of bullet."

Reno did not say anything, but a dark fear stirred itself at the back of his mind. Vincent picked up again, his voice still low and monotone.

"I knew the kind, but I made inquiries to be certain it was not a forgery. It was as I had thought." Slowly, with his metal arm, he reached into the side of his belt. Reno tensed, but he allowed himself to see whatever it was Valentine wanted to show him.

Equally slowly, the gunner extracted a small object, obviously a bullet. He held it up in the light so Reno could see it. Wordlessly, he held it out for Reno to take, and then dropped it into Reno's other hand when he opened it.

Reno studied it carefully, his face a fairly good imitation of Vincent's own mask.

There was no doubting what Vincent had already stated; the bullet was unmistakably that of a Turk. The thin gold stripe running down it gave it away easily and the weight was right. But… it was impossible. No one had bullets like these except the Turks. They had been the only ones who were allowed to use them while the group had still been together, and after they'd disbanded they had each taken five of them as a sort of reminder. Finally lowering his own gun, Reno looked back up.

Before he could speak, however, a muted sound of metal against metal on the ramp up above caused both heads to snap up at the same instant, just in time to see something topple over and fall forwards almost directly above them. Vincent reacted the fastest, turning towards the object almost faster than the eye could follow although Reno was there a second later. The shape fell heavily into the surprised Vincent's outstretched arms, between the two of them. They both looked down uncomprehendingly into the face of a young boy.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Merdan had spent the last three months of his life as a mercenary, Reno reflected. He'd been around sporadically, and when he wasn't on a job he'd hang around the apartment with Reno and laugh like it was old times. Maybe that was why Reno missed the kid the most. Blue danced in the bright sky over head and the still-pale sunshine began to heat everything up, causing the concrete to shimmer all around, but Reno was somewhere far away in his own head. His arm throbbed but he ignored it.

The boy had traveled quite a bit in his brief career, he knew, and he'd always have stories of the places he'd been for Reno. Merdan had always stopped by to see Elena and Rude whenever he passed their way, and always brought brief messages or informal hellos and well wishes from his friends. Reno had never been sure whether to be happy or sad when he heard that they were getting on just fine without him. He generally assumed none of it meant anything and told himself he didn't care.

He'd come to terms with the fact that he had to get on with his life. Stop being a Turk. Stop being a Turk? The idea was almost ludicrous. He'd been a Turk for a good part of his life, and everything about it was ingrained into him. The other Turks weren't just partners, they were friends and more then friends.

People said that the ones who love you unconditionally were your family. Were the Turks Reno's family? The idea was too strange. Reno had never had a family, so the whole thing struck him as largely laughable. All those things people talked about; the only things that were real in Reno's world were the fight and a loyalty he was unwilling – maybe unable to let go of.

In a strange sense, Reno's life had ended when he ceased to be a Turk. He was only 26; seven years of being a Turk. A life much too short.

Reno had heard all the platitudes. There'd be happy reunions, fun filled afternoons, more glory days. Although he didn't doubt such things existed he never expected to see them himself. He'd never believe it himself, but Reno was a young man who had lived through ten times more than his share of the horrors of life.

The real Reno, left for dead somewhere long ago, had been a snarky and carefree guy who joked freely with everyone and anyone. Sometimes, Reno forgot that such a person had ever existed. He hadn't known him long at all, and maybe that's why he was the way he was today. Happiness? That had been before he'd been forced to eke out a miserable life in the slums, with only his wits and his nimble fingers, for himself and the stupid people who had thought they could depend on him.

When he'd been recruited to the Turks he'd walled off that part of himself, or all that remained of it, completely. The day he'd accepted his blue suit from Tseng's predecessor, a woman named Amarine, he'd told her he didn't care and he really hadn't. Things had happened down there that changed everything; he was so different from what he'd been when he first shook that carefully manicured hand that sometimes he didn't even recognize that person. It was just the way things were, and even if he could have gone back he wouldn't bother.

Some of the rougher jobs had been horrors at first, but he had gotten to the point where he no longer cared, or could at least block out all the feeling. The blissful numbness had made Reno what he was today. A bloody, street-wise criminal who didn't know how to break out of the prison he'd locked himself in.

No, life had put him there.

Lady Luck had never been on Reno's side growing up, but when he'd become a Turk he had found himself trusting in her more and more. Was it a good idea? Probably not, but then again, he was still alive to talk about it.

In most eyes, including his own, the cold, hard truth was that Reno was a murderer without a drop of compassion. Whether this was actual truth or just what he wanted believed was always debatable, but the facts remained unchanged. When told to kill someone, he'd point, aim, shoot and then walk away without ever looking back. It didn't matter who or why, that was besides the point. It was his job. It was also true that he'd walked into it knowingly and had never honestly looked back. That was part of the problem with trying to shift the blame.

He wondered vaguely what it would be like to live a life as a painter, or a politician. Anything but this. Reno had never had the choice, however, and he had done what he had to to get by. He had no regrets and wasn't about to start trying to change his life around to conform to what some bigger tough even than him happened to be saying was right today.

As a kid, Reno had lived through some pretty spectacular street fights; mostly gang rivalries or other such shit. Down in the hell of the slums a mugging was often reason enough to start a blood bath. Reno's last fight like that had been when he was seventeen; it had almost been the last thing he'd ever done. By some intervention of fate, the man named Tseng had been watching it all, and had been around to pull him out of the carnage and offer him a job he couldn't turn down.

Reno laughed to himself quietly, the sound not breaking the stillness but stirring it gently. He was a killer. He was your best friend until someone paid for you to be otherwise. He was a hundred different people hiding behind a single face. Who was Reno? Did it even matter anymore?

The sun was well up by the time Vincent Valentine returned from surveying the area around this dead-end section of the crumbling old highway. His demeanour was cool and collected as ever, but underneath a seething disturbance gnawed at him. His golden arm glinted in the morning sunlight, sharp and amazingly accurate as he swung himself effortlessly downwards to where Reno waited. When he hit the pavement once again, the redheaded Turk looked up expectantly from where he was leaning against a concrete panel staring moodily into space.

"Well? Did you find anything?"

Vincent watched the much younger Turk, observing and making notes as he did so. All traces of his previous anger seemed to have vanished, leaving only a weary determination in its place. Vincent did not understand how one person could change so suddenly and so radically in so short a time, but it was of no account to him. He merely returned the stare he received for his silence.

"No, there was nothing."

He turned away from the Turk, letting his back speak for him. He had more important things to deal with. Bending quickly, Vincent smoothly knelt down to better examine the boy that lay on the pavement. After the unexpected entry, Reno had checked him over quickly while Vincent had made a peripheral sweep of the area to find out where the child had come from. He was deeply unconscious, and it had been immediately obvious that he had to have been pushed from the wall far above.

Vincent studied his features, trying to make sense of them. There was nothing familiar about him, and yet Vincent had the odd feeling he'd met him before somewhere, long ago. It was impossible, of course, but still…

The boy had regular features, with prominent cheekbones and highly tanned skin. He had a soft look about him that might have made a more casual observer place him at about ten or eleven, but Vincent suspected he was probably several years older. He had a very slight build, and the most remarkable thing about him was easily his hair. It was white. Not silver like Sephiroth's or grey, but a stark white like fresh, new, crisp snow. It fell just above his shoulders, as much a studied contrast with the rest of him as Reno's hair was to his own eyes.

Vincent turned to regard the Turk impassively. He had approached silently from where he had been standing, and now stood just behind Vincent's left shoulder. He appeared to understand about as much of this as Vincent did, and although Vincent did not doubt that as a Turk the man could be a spectacular liar, he was inclined to believe him. Reno just nodded to the child again.

"He doesn't seem to have a bump on him. He's just… out of it. It's like he's sleeping, but I can't seem to get him to wake up."

Vincent nodded, feeling words were unnecessary. He just remained crouched where he was, staring and wondering.

Reno himself felt more than a little out of place. He probably, if asked, would have described himself as being 'confused as fuck'. Everything about everything here was strange. In the space of one night he'd fought Vincent Valentine, former Turk and member of AVALANCHE and survived to find this odd kid literally tossed into them. It was just… too weird.

In truth, the fact that the kid was here at all, though certainly passing strange, was amplified by… what were they? Not just memories - more like reminders - of Merdan. That's where it had started and it all seemed to lead back to him. Just another kid, a friend who had happened to be in the wrong place at very much the wrong time. No, the boy on the ground in front of him was nothing like the one he'd known, way too young for one thing, but it had given him kind of a shock. When the kid had fallen, just for a second he'd thought…

But no, he wasn't, and it wouldn't do any good to dwell on it. He felt kind of odd, though. After seeing Merdan die in his chair, and now this boy… he felt almost… almost like he should care. Why? It wasn't his responsibility. In fact, with all the weird shit that had been going on, it was practically his responsibility to eliminate the boy as a possible threat. But at the same time he knew beyond certainty that he would do no such thing. Not yet, at any rate.

Reno knew he didn't actually care about what happened to the boy, not really. He'd blow him away in a second if that was what became necessary; Reno had seen too many things in his life to believe that someone was harmless just because they looked it. But for now, just for the moment, he was content to allow the projecting of the friend he hadn't been able to save onto this kid, in all its selfish glory. It was all the same to him. Just because all that psychobabble shit he'd been taught in the Turks was annoying didn't mean it wasn't true. His mood darkened somewhat as his thoughts continued along the same line.

Vincent slowly stood up, letting his cape fall about his shoulders and eddy in the morning breeze. He turned to face Reno, no particular expression on his face or in his eyes. Reno, although trained from day one to ignore and suppress fear, was somewhat taken aback by the icy lack of anything resembling feeling in those eyes. The day you saw something else in them, he reflected, was the day you should be truly afraid. He shook his head and returned Valentine's gaze. And he'd thought he was cold.

Vincent let the quiet stretch on another few moments before deciding to speak.

"…We must take him somewhere."

Reno was surprised. He'd expected… something else. Vincent Valentine had always been eminently practical, and his obvious disregard for the possible danger of taking the boy seemed out of place. Somewhat chillingly, it wasn't hard to believe that Valentine had already read him and knew his thoughts exactly, or maybe he simply had an alternative motive he chose to say nothing of. Although the implications weren't good, Reno hoped like hell it was the latter.

Finally, Reno nodded, sparing only a glance for the kid.

"Yeah. It might be dangerous, but if he knows anything…" He let himself smile a little, though it was far from friendly. Better to keep a monopoly on information. To believe Valentine was an 'ally' now would be as good as suicide. "If it'll make things easier, I'll take him to my pl-"

"No."

Reno blinked.

"…Huh?"

"He will come with me. My house is much less centralized than yours. I will take him there until he recovers consciousness."

Reno covered his frustration well, widening his smile just a little to compensate for the irritation he felt at knowing he could not protest.

"I suppose it's for the best." He gave his reply a flippant tone in an attempt to bait the gunner. "I don't feel like changing diapers. But you might want to give me a phone number or something, 'cause you might not like it if I have to break into your house every time I want to reach you."

Vincent did not look away for an instant.

"It is unnecessary. When it is needed, I will contact you."

"There's too much riding on the line here for you to just disappear!" Reno cursed himself as the anger slipped out, but it was too late to stop it. "I have no reason to trust you, or you me for that matter. But it only makes sense for us to stay in contact. If we want to go our separate ways when we know what the fuck just happened, it's a-okay with me, but until then I can't let you just walk away without some kind of proof that I'll ever hear from you again!"

Slowly, he exhaled, letting it go. Confrontation with Valentine, again, was not high on his list of things to do today, but he would do whatever was needed. He had been sincere when he'd said too much depended on this.

Vincent turned away for a moment, and Reno could almost have sworn he saw a tiny smile on the gunman's face. Later, he dismissed it as his imagination. Vincent dropped slowly to the ground again, using his normal arm to reach under the boy's back and prop him up. He slid the metallic arm under his legs next before lifting him effortlessly. Finally, he turned back to Reno.

"…I am glad." Once again, his face was blank, but Reno wondered if there wasn't a trace of humour in his voice. "I would not cooperate with an idiot. Very well. I give you my word."

"Your word. Really." Reno let his scepticism roll off his tongue but then nodded, wondering why in hell he was trusting this man. No choice, perhaps, or maybe instinct. Regardless, he would have to just believe that the gunner would come through on his promise. It occurred to him that perhaps Vincent also had something to be gained from this brief collaboration, though he could not imagine what, and it made him feel a little better.

Before Vincent could leave, however, Reno's notice trailed down to the rip in the gunman's leg. Though barely noticeable thanks to the dark clothing, Reno's practiced eye picked it out with some curiosity.

"Hey, Valentine."

Vincent turned towards him a last time.

"How did you get that scratch anyway?"

Vincent glanced down before catching Reno's eyes again.

"A ricochet; just after the tunnel."

Reno raised an eyebrow, amusement and surprise registering at once.

"And I never knew." He laughed shortly.

Vincent's eyes turned to Reno's arm, sleeve largely destroyed and the remains of it a dark red. Scraped and torn up by his slide on the pavement as well as punctured earlier by a bullet, it looked more than a little worse for the wear. Vincent noted the fact that the Turk had not once even shown a sign of discomfort. Deciding to try to leave this with a little peace, he turned his back on Reno before taking his leave.

"…I… am sorry for shooting you."

There was a moment's silence before Reno answered.

"Yeah, me too. …Just a little."

He grinned somewhat evilly, an answer to Vincent's own unseen smile.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

The sun was fairly high in the sky as Vincent paced silently down the many streets and side streets that led his way home. With the boy still held carefully in his arms, having shown no signs of consciousness, Vincent's thoughts were entirely elsewhere. He rounded a corner, not needing to think about the path he traced, and the shadows played across his face. The air was cool and fresh, and coming back out into the warm, pale golden light he paused for a moment.

Vincent's dark cape swirled about his ankles, as crimson as his eyes. It added another element of mystery to the man who many already believed a creature conjured from dreams – or nightmares. He stood quietly on the street and followed the way with his eyes. He was still a block from the place he considered home, but something about the way light and shadows played on the rooftops here, it caught at him, recalled him to his daydreams.

His leg stung, but that he ignored with practiced ease. In truth, once he had decided not to feel it, he barely did. He had resolved not to look at it until he had reached the safety of his house, and he would not let it bother him until then. Almost idly, it occurred to him that the Turk had done well to get a shot in past his trained defences. Perhaps it had been a lucky shot, but it was something to think about regardless.

Yes, the short but necessitated alliance with the Turk would cost dear. Much more so than he had let on. Working with a Turk again… even if just for a week, a day, an hour, it would certainly be hard; he had hoped never to have to don a blue suit again. But then again no one was forcing him. Still, even the thought of being in close proximity to one for more than a few moments gave Vincent chills.

A long time ago, just over thirty years now, he supposed, Vincent had been a Turk too. It was not a secret he kept from the world, and once upon a time, he had even been happy. Though that was a story that was not for sunny days such as this. It was a story that he did not choose to reflect on on any day at all. It was a story of things lost and remembered in which Vincent lived still; he knew he could never lose it completely. And yet, he had always hoped that maybe one day, some day, he could get on with his life once more. The sudden, erratic quest to save the world from Meteor had been that chance, he imagined.

Under the darkness of many fathoms of water, he'd somehow found his way to the hidden waterfall, guided by heaven and hell knew what. He'd been given a chance he'd only dreamed of, to see Lucrecia once more, to bid her farewell. But still… he knew the memories, the ghosts still followed him.

Lucrecia had been his world… and she was his sin. Long ago he had abandoned her when she needed him the most, though neither had realized it at the time, and now he had to live with that knowledge every day of his seemingly endless life. In a way, she had been the one between him and perdition. When Vincent had turned his back on her, life as he knew it had ended.

She had had to choose between Vincent and science once, long ago, and she had made that choice decisively. When he'd reached out his hand to her, she'd turned her back and had gone down into the shadows of the Shinra mansion to where it all began. Lucrecia… the woman who had produced Sephiroth willingly, given her all to make that dream a reality, and then had never gotten to hold him once. And throughout it all, Vincent had just stood by as an onlooker, convincing himself that it was better if he didn't interfere, that he had no right.

But then, like a sudden respite after the storm, Lucrecia had realized the true significance of what she'd done. She had, in all willingness, brought a child into the world with no purpose except to be experimented upon. He had no life ahead of him that was not determined by Shinra, no future. And she would never have the chance to watch him grow up, or to comfort him when he cried out in pain or fear. To know what she had done was the punishment for her crime, and she, like the man she'd spurned, would always be haunted by it.

She had fled into the eternal night, leaving Vincent alone in the dark house with his own guilt and pain. In a rage, he had confronted Hojo, but unlike the stories about the heroic knight, things had not turned out well. When he'd awakened from his drugged stupor with only a memory of a gunshot and Hojo's face appearing out of the shadows, he'd found himself terribly alone in a dark coffin, the same but horribly different. He'd known after drawing his first lucid breath that everything was lost. In short, he had become what he had always been: a monster.

Physically, Vincent was now ten times stronger than he'd ever been, and the metal claw in the place of his left arm could produce inhuman feats. Not only that, Vincent had found something lurking deep within, something he had been unable to understand then, in the coffin. Driven by his rage and grief, a real monster lay in wait, always just on the edge of sight, just waiting for a moment of weakness to escape its prison. That monster had many names, but to Vincent it would always be Chaos.

Sick and afraid, he'd ventured haphazardly out into the abandoned Shinra mansion. How much time had passed, he could not have known, but it was almost as if time had stopped around him. The hallways were dank and dark, their lights permanently extinguished, and cobwebs filled every corner. With a growing feeling of horror he'd explored the lab, seen the books still all laid out as if no time had passed, but hidden under a thick layer of grey dust.

Had anyone been there to see him, they would have seen a strange, dark man wandering the long forgotten tunnels with a haunted, lost expression. Memories always lived on, even when nothing else did. The plump maid who had kept house for them gossiped around the corner, the gardeners sipped drinks in the small kitchenette during their breaks. Each one seemed tangibly real despite the passage of time.

As he had crossed into the basement laboratory, the figures had taken on even more life, more color. Professor Gast scribbled busily at one table, completely absorbed in his work. Hojo's clear, cold laugh rang in Vincent's ears, setting his mind on fire. And there, reading a book… was Lucrecia. She had looked up and smiled at him across the years, and unable to go further he'd collapsed on the table.

With tears he had thought a Turk could never cry, he'd wept with inescapable grief and regret for that ghost of a woman who would never leave him. But in that moment where his defences crumbled, the beast inside had taken hold. And thus did Vincent meet Chaos for the first time.

Black wings had ripped from Vincent's back, tearing clothing and skin at the same time, and his long fingers extended into terrible claws. As darkness swallowed him whole he'd tried to scream in horror, tried to fight back, but he had lost the battle before he'd begun. That scream echoed through the house and his own mind long after he lost control of his voice.

So why did the man named Vincent Valentine hide his thoughts and emotions behind that bleak, unscalable wall? Because the alternative was unthinkable. When he had finally found that he was himself again, he'd been left a scarred shell of a man curled up in the wreckage surrounding him. It had been several hours before he'd dared to move again.

He had carefully cleaned up the laboratory and those books that could be saved, trusting in his picture perfect memories to set everything back where it had been before. And after… he had gone back to his small room, alone and hidden. He found a small key to the room in the laboratory and then had hidden it away. Words played through his head, and although they were his own they called him monster, and much worse. So he had closed the door and shut out everything, believing he was that monster and unfit to live among other people. He locked himself in that room, in his coffin, where he could sleep undisturbed until the end of days.

And he almost had, until Cloud Strife came along. Now, thirty years later, he had avenged Lucrecia and Hojo was dead. Under the blue sky of the present, he wondered what was left for him now. Of course, friends would always be there, and after everything he allowed himself to believe that was true. Although he was often aloof and did not show his thoughts, Vincent was thankful. There were people he could depend upon and trust, and that wasn't something he took lightly.

All in all, Vincent was happy enough living on his own, in peace. He'd thought about maybe leaving here, going out into the world to just be a normal human being again. He knew that the others would all approve, particularly Cloud and Tifa, but he was not certain he was quite ready for that yet. This in between existence in Midgar was the life he had chosen, and he liked it for what it was. This sudden interruption would change things; he could feel it already, almost like a change in the winds.

A few stray clouds drifted overhead, but the day remained resolutely bright and beautiful. Slowly, Vincent closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He supposed that once, in a place and time long forgotten, he must have been a romantic. Before he stained his hands with the reality of the blue suit and the black gun of the Turks, that is. Every once in a while he would find himself looking for days like this, where everything would seem alright and where it looked like even happy endings were possible. Life was never like that; he knew from experience it waited for no one. And yet… Vincent waited for these days of sunshine.

He began to walk again, giving the boy he carried a quick glance, and his steps were quick and light. He did not smile, but for now, for here, he was happy.

Yes, even after everything, he still believed.

* * *

Reno sat in his apartment, slouched on his couch with his feet on the coffee table. There was a bottle of tequila open on the table, easily within reach. Not to mention the beer cans in the fridge.

All the lights were turned off, and the curtains pulled tightly closed to block out the bright sunlight that seemed determined to infiltrate the room. Reno ran a hand through his red hair distractedly and sighed. A fresh white bandage was wrapped around his arm, and the tired look on Reno's face hinted at the fact that he'd already seen to the removal of the bullet. With no material on hand to expedite the process there was nothing for it but to take the hands-on approach. You learned to do things yourself when you became a Turk.

Reno's blue jacket lay in a heap near the door where he'd dropped it after coming in. His black shirt was stained and ripped, and his blue jeans had split at the knee after their close encounter with high-speed pavement. Overall, Reno looked more than a little like he'd just fallen off of a motorcycle that was blazing full speed down an abandoned highway. Funny that. He reached over and took a drink from the bottle. Yeah, life, or fate, or whatever had thrown a lot of things his way last night.

Vincent for one thing. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to deal with the gunman if he wanted to find out what had really happened to Merdan. Not to mention the weird message he'd spent his last breath delivering. What about Rude and Elena? It didn't sound like puppies and rainbows, whatever had happened.

He took another long drink from the bottle and stared half angrily at the darkened TV set. He hated it when things took a turn that he couldn't foresee. Hated it more when it was something he couldn't threaten his way out of with his gun or EMR. Hated it the most when he couldn't shut it all out because it followed him inside his own head.

Objectively, he told himself that when he was by himself he didn't need to think of anything, it could all go to hell. Unfortunately, he'd always been a quick thinker and it didn't work that way. Despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise, things went round and round in his mind, like some kind of carousel on fast-forward, and even unconsciously he couldn't help but turn them over and over.

Well, Reno had always considered himself a doer. When he was presented with a problem, he came up with a solution. The problem here was clear, and thus the solution was too: get wasted. When there was nothing left to think about, unconsciousness usually served him well. He reached for the tequila again

As another mouthful went down, Reno wondered. He had a lot of questions when –if– the kid woke up. Where he'd come from and why he'd been pushed off the top of the highway were on the top of the list, without a doubt. There had to be a connection somewhere, something he was missing. There were a lot of clues he wasn't holding, and tomorrow would be the day to get them, whatever it cost.

Another shot. And just to top it off, an end to the bottle. Ah yes, the world was beginning to look less clear already.

What if Valentine took off? No, although he had no basis for the hunch Reno doubted severely that Valentine was going anywhere. And even if he was, Reno would track him to the ends of the Planet and back before he let him get away with the only clue he had in a mystery that was quickly deepening. But Valentine did have AVALANCHE on his side… Fuck. He hadn't thought of that. Not the disappearing part, but regardless of how well things went with Valentine he was eventually going to have to deal with Strife and cronies, wasn't he? No, definitely not something he was going to look forward to.

Pushing against the back of the couch, he wandered towards the fridge before opening it and pulling out six cans of the nearest beverage. It was all alcoholic, after all, so it didn't really matter what it was. He popped the first one open and started drinking before heading back to the couch. He preferred the dark front room to the kitchen: it was bright with daylight in here and made his head ache.

So, tomorrow, then. If Valentine hadn't killed Merdan, then who the hell had? This was a pressing question. Was one person acting alone with a grudge against the Turks? It's not like they didn't have enough enemies lurking around the underworld. But something about that didn't ring true. Why Valentine? Yes, he'd been a Turk, but he'd helped to destroy Shinra, right? Or was just knowing something about Shinra enough? There was something to that, maybe…

One can down, the second snapped open.

What about Rude and Elena? If something had happened to them, he wouldn't let anyone forget about it ever. Yeah, if anything happened to them, the world would find out just how much damage an ex-Turk can still do before he's taken down. Gods, he missed them. No, he didn't, he didn't miss them. They were his friends, and he wanted the good old days back. No, he didn't. He was fine. Perfectly fine.

Snap.

Why did things have to happen like this? They were all supposed to stick together, weren't they? Turks' honour, or something. What honour? The thought made him laugh. But yeah, together. Rude and Elena left him here, and it was all their fault. No, it wasn't, it was his fault. No, that wasn't right either. They weren't the first ones to leave. What was his name now…? Tseng, right. It was Tseng's fault. He'd left them alone in the darkness and he abandoned them and he was never, ever coming back, and it was his fault, Reno's fault, all alone.

Snap.

Finally, the thoughts began to fade, and Reno's mind slipped away from consciousness and towards somewhere darker than the shadows in the room. It all spun around him until nothing made sense anymore and as Reno disappeared into black, he was glad.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

He wasn't quite sure what it was that woke him up first. The sound of someone pounding on his door could quite possibly have done it, although the damnable phone was another good suspect. From where he was on the couch, Reno groaned and rolled over to try to hide from the world just another few minutes, though hours would be preferable. The throbbing in his head was starting to take on the same rhythm as the horrible sadist at the door, however, so with some muffled swearing, Reno forced himself up.

He noticed, thanks to an insistent pain at the back of his head, that sunlight was once again attempting to come in through his curtains. Interesting. Either he'd slept only a few hours, or he'd been out for nearly 24. Judging by the fact that he could walk without too much trouble, he was willing to bet it was the latter.

Angrily, he made his way to the door before quickly unlatching it and turning the lock. He pushed it open a little warily, and was rewarded with a beam of warm golden sunlight. Hoping like hell his eyes weren't really burning the way they felt they were, Reno peered around the door at whoever had gotten him up. Whoever it was should probably be fearing for their lives around this point, he was certain.

A girl looked up at him defiantly from his doorstep. Ignoring the warning signs of imminent soberness from his brain, he tried to focus on her. He realized vaguely that she lived about two blocks down. He'd known her older sister pretty well until she was arrested during a prostitution bust and thrown in jail for contracting out minors. The kid glaring at him now was quite a bit younger, maybe fourteen or so.

She had a bright yellow dress on that looked like something out of a slightly demented children's coloring book, and her sandy brown hair was drawn up into two matching ponytails. However, she also wore heavy black makeup that outlined her eyes and lips, and she looked distinctly unimpressed. Reno shook his head in an attempt to clear it a little.

"What the hell do you want?"

The girl continued to glare at him, before holding up a blue and yellow manically happy box that he'd failed to notice.

"Buy cookies. 'M raising money for my fucking youth group. Buy cookies."

Reno shook his head again, not quite believing his luck.

"I don't want any co-"

"I said BUY COOKIES!"

Reno finally registered that if he didn't get inside soon, it was entirely possible that he'd simply turn to dust. The girl, who was almost a foot shorter than him, didn't break her stare for a moment. Reno knew when it was easier to just give in.

"Fine. Fuck. Here's some money. Just give me the damn cookies already."

The girl took the proffered gil before counting it carefully. Pocketing all of the change as well, she handed him the box with an incredibly false, bright smile. Reno took them with an evil glare of his own before a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, kid…" She looked up, the look of solemn hatred back. "What time is it, anyway?"

She took a second to consult her watch before a smile crept up on her black and white face again. This one was, if possible, even less pleasant.

"Why, mister, it's almost eight o'clock."

Reno tried to restrain the immediate urge to kill, or at least cause severe harm.

"I hate you so much," were his last words before he slammed the door shut. He didn't see the girl smile brightly again before skipping down the steps toward some other unsuspecting neighbour's house.

Inside, Reno welcomed the return of the darkness. Even with the damnable sheer curtains it was still a drastic improvement. He sighed, and tossed the cookies onto a nearby table before heading for the nearest sink. He needed a drink like hell, and he'd discovered early on that the best way to regain mostly-consciousness was some cold water and not more alcohol. As a devoted drinker, Reno had a fair alcohol tolerance, and he could shake off even the worst hangover with a little time and quiet. Unfortunately, this morning the world seemed determined to give him neither.

In the bathroom he poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly. The papery feeling that was his throat didn't disappear, but it subsided a little. Turning on the water as cold as possible, he cupped his hands underneath and splashed water all over his face. The icy water seemed to bring him back to life a little.

Returning to the main room, he felt a little better, and slouched back onto the couch and closed his eyes. That helped too, and he just let himself sit in the dark. Remembering something though, he opened his eyes again and grabbed the box of cookies off the table. Breaking the seal easily, he opened the box and pulled out a cookie. Chocolate, huh? He ate it with some small measure of satisfaction, deciding that for a box of ten gil cookies, he'd better enjoy them.

The first ring of the phone caught him off guard. He'd forgotten that it had been ringing before as well. People didn't call him at his place often; for jobs he had a secure line that was looked after by a friend and occasional partner at one of the local dives. Speaking of, until this was over it'd be a good idea to drop by and let it be known that he wasn't going to be available for a while. Anyway, the phone was making his headache come back. He picked up the receiver hurriedly.

"Hello?"

"He's regained consciousness. You should get here."

Reno blinked.

"What? Valentine?"

Yes, although the voice was distorted by the line, it was undoubtedly Vincent Valentine. And that must mean that the boy was awake. Reno sat a little straighter.

"He's awake now? Then I hope you don't mind if I don't waste any time in swinging by."

"No. I advise you hurry."

The sound of a decisive click from the other end followed by an irritating beeping told Reno that the conversation was over. Apparently Valentine was being his usual communicative self. Well, it didn't really matter. What did matter was the fact that the kid was awake, and that he might have answers. That changed his morning a little.

Standing up quickly, he ignored the protest his head made and moved quickly towards the room he generally called bedroom to change and get ready. His jacket needed some generous repair work, as well as the rest of what he'd been wearing though he cared far less about those. He owned some other pants and some other shirts. He'd have to do without the jacket today though, and that bothered him a little.

True, he was in a hurry, and he wanted to get to Valentine's as fast as possible, but he had a little time to spare. It was always better to make the waiting party worry a little; it gave him some extra time to think. Besides, it was going to take a while to get the damned shirt off anyway, with his arm the way it was. Besides, that was Valentine's fault anyway, so there was no way he could be held responsible for being late because of it. He smiled a little, and felt somewhat better.

He was showered, dressed, and out the door by a quarter to nine, moving down the steps and out of the complex as fast as he could without betraying his injury or his still-present headache. It was a Turk's job to make sure that even the closest watcher never knows that you're in anything but top, killer form. To betray a weakness was tantamount to suicide, so even now he never let his guard slip.

Everything was sunny around him, and the illegitimate minerals in the concrete sidewalks glittered under the dazzling sunlight. There were several ways he could take to reach Valentine's, though his feet seemed to prefer to take his usual route. At least if he took that way, it would keep him out of the open quite so much. He was currently living in the area being called Sector 4, although officially its name was East Makai. It had amused Reno to no end to discover how the population had reverted to calling the place by its old names. He would dearly love to be the one to tell the new Jiyuu president up in Mikomi, Sector 1, all about it.

Valentine lived in Sector 6 – Anei urban district – but that presented few challenges to one who knew all the darker shortcuts. His usual haunts lay that way anyway, so it mattered little to him. Where anyone else would fear going through the dark ways, to Reno it was just common business.

He took the first left he came to, feeling contradictorily better as the shadows closed around him. He knew all these roads very well, and he could trace the back alleys of the city probably as well if not better than the architect who had laid them out. This way, if you took it far enough south, led towards the center of the city which divided the four quarters and the eight 'districts'. After that, it was possible to double back east and head down to Sector 6 while bypassing almost all of the fifth. The east quarter was the biggest of the four, encompassing Sectors 4, 5 and 6 while the west quarter was only made up of Sector 1.

Reno walked softly, feeling at home here in the obscure almost-tunnels. His EMR was concealed in a trick pocket, just in case, and he had a pocket knife near to hand as well. He didn't expect trouble, but that was hardly a factor in the overall equation. There was hardly an equation at all.

The road wound past several doors that Reno easily identified, noting two in particular with a smile of familiarity. It was highly unlikely that anyone would be about these parts at this time of the morning, but Reno did not mind in the slightest. The quiet of these streets during the day was one of the things he loved best, and this was not the first time he'd walked this way during daylight hours. Other narrow streets, equally unlighted and invisible branched off in all directions, but he kept his original course.

He'd checked the drawer where he kept his guns before leaving, almost as an after thought. The concealed compartment had opened normally, sliding open when he pressed against the top of the drawer. Inside everything had seemed to be in order at first glance, but his Turk training had made him look closer. He'd pulled out the gold and red packet that stayed permanently, carefully hidden at the back. Inside had been three perfect bullets, gold striped and all. Two empty spots.

Reno turned the pocket knife over in his hand almost without thinking about it. He'd considered taking the remaining three bullets with him to ensure their safety, but he doubted it would do much good to have them on him. They were probably equally safe where they were. Whoever had taken them had known exactly where to find them, and had presumably taken two and only two for a reason. He doubted they'd return. Before putting the package back, he'd carefully fitted the bullet Valentine had given him back into the case, though it was warped and fractured from impact. He would not forget the other empty space.

He was coming to the end of this particular road now, and looked around quickly before picking his next move. It never hurt to be cautious. But there was no hint or sense of danger of any kind at the moment, so he rounded the corner and headed down the road that appeared to parallel the one he'd just come from. It was impossible to know from just looking that it shot off down and southwards. This suited Reno fine. The only ones who knew about it were the ones who had to, and it was always better that way.

This way it probably took just over half an hour to reach his destination, where as going right through Sector 5 would easily double that time. Although he had no problem keeping Valentine in a little suspense, he didn't want to lose this chance either. He suspected the former-AVALANCHE member would not look too kindly on having to wait.

Thirty feet or so down the road, it took a sudden turn. Reno just kept walking. Tall, dirty buildings stretched upwards casting their shadows across each other to obscure all passers by below. Whoever had designed this place had been a realist, of that Reno was certain. He thanked them, whoever they were, and let it go at that.

The road widened a little up here, but it was just because of the particular architecture of one of the local clubs that lined the way. He'd been here many times, often frequenting said club if business so dictated or if the urge hit him. He knew about the flare in the road, but for some reason something just felt wrong. Reno wasn't sure why, and he took another step forward cautiously.

Suddenly, cold adrenaline hit him and he dropped instantly. He was just in time to see an arrow scream through the air where his throat had been only a second before. He wasted no time, and let out a low growl before moving forward as fast as he was able. Still staying low, he darted towards one of the dumpsters against the brick wall. He heard a snap as another arrow whistled past, cracking dangerously against the wall only inches away. He knew that sound. A crossbow. Interesting.

He crouched low behind the obstruction and held his breath, listening. There was only silence, but ever so faintly he was pretty sure he could hear movement… Yes, that was definitely feet. And from the sound of them there was more than one attacker, possibly three or four although the others were more distant. What in hells were they doing here now? Well, time for questions later. For right now he had to deal with the three, whoever they might be. He hoped like hell they were just common thugs, but everything felt wrong here. He reached for the EMR, moving quickly.

The silver weapon felt right in his hand, and he silently flicked it out. He had always loved the way it crackled to life with electricity, every bit as quiet as he was, and just as deadly. A quick, grim smile flashed by, and Reno counted to five before ducking out once again.

The only way to beat someone with a fast, long distance weapon was to be even faster. He snaked forward, dodging and running with as much speed as he had. While he had always loved sniping he knew how to fight melee with the best of them. He did not fear close combat, even if he was outnumbered. So Reno didn't stop until the figure of the shooter loomed into sight, frantically trying to fit another arrow into the bow. With a last burst of speed, he collided with the man, taking him over and down with him.

The crossbow, small and efficient though it was, went skittering across the pavement. With practiced efficiency, Reno flipped the man over, taking only an instant to register his appearance. The EMR snapped down, colliding with the man's collarbone and sending several thousand volts of pure electricity coursing through his body. Reno used his elbow to drive the man into the pavement, not letting go for even a second until all resistance had disappeared entirely. By then, the sound of footsteps pounding of the pavement was drumming in his ears, and he could feel it coursing through his veins.

He pulled away, moving up and back just enough to get a good look at his new assailants. There were two more heading straight for him. One was average sized, while the other was larger than either of his two companions. Both looked oddly young, though also strangely determined. He didn't think either could have been more than twenty or so. The smaller of the two carried a long bit of wire wrapped around his fists and stretched between his two hands. The other had a lead pipe, and was advancing fast.

Reno didn't wait for them to come to him. He moved forward again, stepping almost casually over the motionless body in front of him. He only paused to duck when the first swing of the heavy pipe came straight towards his head. He hit the ground again before rolling forward, coming up behind the larger man. He jerked his arm in a backward swing that sent the man toppling away and forward. Reno then turned to the third assailant, fire burning in his eyes.

The young man seemed to hesitate for a moment before backing away ever so slightly. It almost succeeded in distracting Reno long enough for the other one to turn again, swinging the pipe in an upward arc sure to do major damage. He heard it only just in time.

He moved enough to only be caught a glancing blow to the shoulder, causing him to spin. He tried to balance it out but overcompensated, reeling towards the pipe-bearer too much for comfort. In response, he lashed out his foot into the man's stomach which saw him quickly doubled over from the short, sharp pain. Reno tried to move back for the crippling blow. He wanted at least one of them alive for questioning, so he sent another sharp kick the man's way. Unfortunately, that was what they had been hoping for. In a flash, two large hands were gripping Reno's foot as the man straightened, grinning. Instantly, the garroting cord was over his head and going for his throat.

Reno reacted as fast as he could, sending both hands upward just in time to get in between the cable and his windpipe. The man behind him grunted in frustration, and Reno strained against the cord to test the strength of the one using it. He could do nothing to stop the fist that collided with his stomach, though. He lost his breath for a second, but no more. Turk training took over, and Reno reacted to the situation before personal injury could even register. Channels had been burned into him for his thoughts to follow instinctively, and they would never disappear.

Reno pushed against the man still gripping his foot, and feeling enough resistance he used it to smash his other foot up into the man's jaw. He staggered, let go, fell. Next move was a risk, but Reno was certain he could pull it off. Using the full force he possessed, he pushed back against the cord, ignoring the way it cut into his fingers. The man behind him, surprised, let it slip just the few requisite quarters of an inch.

In a moment, Reno had spun to face the man, his hands free, and had sent a levelling blow into his opponent's nose before he had a chance to re-tighten his cord. Grabbing his hand as he fell, Reno wrenched the cable away from the man as he toppled to the ground. His head hit the ground with a resounding crack, and he was unconscious before Reno even had to hit him again. A quick survey of the other man told Reno that he too was out. With a nod of approval at a job well done, Reno turned to his first concern before taking stock.

The crossbow. He'd seen others like it before, he was certain. Bending down to pick it up from where it had fallen, he noted the snapped string and the make of the weapon. Oh yes, he'd seen these before. It was a Shinra general issue, model 3029 with custom mounting. Strange. The things, like all Shinra weaponry, were supposed to be nearly impossible to get your hands on these days. Everything designed by Shinra's genius weapon's master, Scarlett, had been a deadly killing machine. They were also completely banned under Midgar's new laws, and with a dedication no one had suspected, Reeve had tracked them down and destroyed them one by one. Very interesting indeed.

Next, he inspected the man he'd hit with the EMR. Dead, predictably. Very few people survived an encounter with Reno's favourite death dealer. A quick look over confirmed that he, like the other two, was around nineteen or twenty years of age. Well, that left only the remaining attackers to question. Not a problem. Two was more than enough.

He bent down next to the one who'd had the cord, and noticed with a frown that there were no signs of breathing. A quick check revealed no pulse. He hadn't hit his head that hard, had he? A sudden horrible suspicion took hold, and Reno darted back over to the large man to discover that he too had no life signs. Damn it. A quick, somewhat frantic search of the two of them turned up no clues, but the hint of a familiar smell filled in the details Reno was missing. Slow acting poison. Wonderful.

So, whoever they were, they hadn't been after his wallet. What the hell kind of job would call for the killer's suicide? They'd have to be insane to accept. To top it all off he had no more clue except for this broken crossbow as to what had just happened. A dark nagging feeling told him that things were not looking good.

When Vincent opened the door and found Reno on his doorstep, he did not look impressed. His dark red eyes said it for him as he opened the door wider to usher the ex-Turk inside. Reno found this humorous, although he was wary. He knew Vincent would notice the dust all over his clothes and the tear in his newly donned shirt. He was starting to wonder if the whole purpose of whatever was happening wasn't just to force him to buy a new wardrobe.

With some theatrics, he tossed the crossbow onto the small coffee table near Vincent's front door and watched the gunman with amused speculation. Vincent just studied the weapon from a distance, no hint of his thoughts crossing his face at all. He moved his eyes to meet Reno's.

Reno smiled lazily.

"I brought you some cookies too, though I suspect they're a little crushed by now."

Vincent just stared at him coldly. Reno's smile faded just a little, and he nodded hastily towards the crossbow.

"I'm sure you noticed it's a Shinra make, though not one of the best. I'd like to know where the guy got it from, but unfortunately he decided to up and die on me before I could ask."

Vincent nodded slowly, still impassive.

"It can wait until later. The boy is more important right now."

He walked down the hallway to a door on his right across from the staircase. He opened and held it open for Reno to enter first.

The room was large and much like the one he'd been in upstairs, though lacking the bookshelves. On the couch at one end of the room facing a television set, Reno could just see bright white hair. He nodded quietly to Vincent before walking inside.

"Howdy."

The kid, startled, spun around. He looked the same as Reno remembered though now that his eyes were open his appearance was even more shocking. Dark, almost black eyes watched him as he approached, although there was no fear there. Reno smiled and nodded.

"Nice to meet you when you're awake." The kid smiled too.

"Hi, I guess. This is a little weird, I'm sorry." He laughed and scratched the back of his head. Although he looked fairly young, his demeanour seemed to indicate he was older. Reno's smile widened and he crouched down next to the couch where the boy was sitting under a small mountain of blankets.

"Heh. Don't worry about it. I'm Reno. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." The boy held out his hand, still smiling. "I'm Deth."

Raising an eyebrow, Reno took his hand and shook it.

"Deth?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so. My mom wanted to call me Devon and my dad wanted Seth, so they compromised." He made a face and Reno laughed.

"Ouch. It would have been better if they'd called you Sevon." They both grinned, and the kid watched Reno appraisingly.

"So Vincent tells me you were there when he found me."

"Yeah… I guess you could say that."

"I was kinda hoping you could tell me why I fell off the top of a highway and ended up in this guy's house."

"I was sort of hoping you could tell me the same thing."

Vincent appeared around the side of the couch, his usual bandana missing. His dark hair fell across his shoulders, and he looked stiffer than usual. He sought Deth's eyes with his own.

"Is there anything you require?"

"Umm…" The boy grinned sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind a glass of lemonade…" Vincent nodded promptly and disappeared again. Deth looked back at Reno who was smiling almost evilly now.

"Valentine doing room service, eh? I like it."

"To tell you the truth… so do I." The two grinned conspiratorially for a moment.

"So… if neither of us knows what the hell is going on, maybe you could tell me a little about yourself to help us figure it out faster, huh?" Reno prompted.

Deth pulled a blanket around his shoulders, and seemed to think.

"There really isn't that much interesting to tell. Like I said, my name's Deth and I just turned fourteen two weeks ago. Let's see… I'm from Costa Del Sol, and I'm an only child. My mom and dad and me've been living there since Meteor, and before we lived in Rocket Town. The last thing I remember is going down to the beach with my dad and walking towards the water. Then, next thing I know, I'm waking up here." He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't," Reno agreed. "But you're a smart kid and I like to think I've got a few brain cells so I bet we can figure it out between the two of us."

The boy nodded.

"I don't see how stealing kids and dropping them off roads helps anybody, but from what Vincent's been not-telling me, I think it's pretty bad."

"Hey…" Reno turned serious. "Are you okay here? I'm not exactly best friends with Valentine, so I don't know that much about him."

"No, don't worry. He's quiet, but he's really nice. I don't really get him, but it's okay. He gets me lemonade so he can't be all that bad."

"No, I guess not. Anyway, if there's anything you need, just let me know. It seems Valentine knows my number, but I'll give you a copy just in case."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Anyways, I think nurse-maid Vincent should be back in a minute and then we can discuss what to do about everything." A thought occurred to him. "Hey, until then, want a cookie?"

"What kind?"

"Chocolate."

"Well that's a dumb question then."

"Yeah, I thought as much myself. Sorry if they're a little broken."

Reno located the box of cookies before tossing it to Deth who caught them easily. He opened the box and pulled out half a chocolate cookie with a grin before passing the box back to Reno to take one. And that was how Vincent found them when he returned with the glass of lemonade.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

Dark eyes shot open, followed by a sudden, sharp gasp. Deth sat up and stared blankly at the unfamiliar walls all around him. Shadows hid most of the room, but everything felt wrong.

First reaction: panic. He realized dimly that he was clutching the edge of the bed in a death grip, and he forced himself to let go and survey his surroundings. Although messages thrumming in his blood were telling him to bolt and not look back, he fought them down and tried to force his brain to be rational.

Where was he? A better question, what did he remember last? Okay… Well, he remembered the beach, and laughing as his best friend challenged him to a race to the water. He remembered the feeling of the sand under his feet and between his toes, remembered the hot sun, the warm wind, the umbrellas and the blue sky. He remembered thinking he was going to win, remembered the extra burst of speed and the moment just before his foot hit the water where it had rolled up the beach. And then nothing.

Had there been an accident? Nothing he could turn up in his memories pointed to one, but nothing else made sense. So was this some kind or specialty hospital then? Maybe. That was possible. He realized for the first time that he'd been holding his breath. Slowly, he let it out. Well, if this was a hospital or whatever, it would be a good idea to let the nurses or doctors know that he was awake now. However, no matter how much he tried to convince himself to put his feet down onto the floor, it would not work. He did not like it, but he was afraid.

The room he was in was not large but not small; the bed he was in occupied the center of the main wall which faced the door. On his right was a bedside table with a lamp and what seemed a broken alarm clock, and beside that a shaded window. Next to the door, still on the right hand side was a large oak chest of drawers that loomed in the dark a little too much for Deth's liking. He swallowed. There were paintings on both the right and left hand walls, but the room had little to offer of interest besides them.

It was the very faint sound of footsteps that distracted him from his thoughts. Again, he couldn't stop the fresh wave of freezing adrenaline that swept through him. Unconsciously, his fingers closed around the sheets once more.

Afterwards, he'd laugh and say that of course he hadn't been scared but the truth was that when the shadowed figure appeared in the doorway there was no other word to describe it. He thought for a second that maybe he could throw something and get away, but the part of his mind still working warned against it. So he just sat and stared as the tall, black silhouette stepped into the room.

He would always remember the shining, blood-red eyes as a stray bar of moonlight fell across them, illuminating them but nothing else. Again, running like hell seemed a feel-good option. The next thing he saw was the golden claw, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint not to yell until his lungs gave out. He was also pretty sure this man was no doctor. Vincent, seeing the boy's fear just stopped and regarded him impassively.

He watched the boy carefully, studying the kid who currently found himself in Vincent's spare bedroom. He had no wish to scare the boy, but neither did he speak.

After a minute or so of indeterminate silence, it was Deth who decided to try and break the silence.

"…Hi."

His voice didn't exactly come out the way he wanted it to, but at least he'd proved he could still speak despite his own doubts on the subject. Vincent's expression did not change.

"You're awake."

Deth nodded almost imperceptibly, not taking his eyes off Vincent.

"Umm… yeah?"

"You would doubtless like to know where you are."

It was a statement of fact, and not a question. Deth noted semi-hysterically the long cloak that brushed around his apparent captor's feet. He nodded again. Vincent took that as assent enough.

"To begin with, you are currently in the spare room of my house in lower Midgar." He waited a moment, registering the stunned silence of his inadvertent house guest.

"…My name is Vincent Valentine. You will come to no harm. How you ended up here is as much a mystery to myself as I surmise it is to you. You will remain here, however, until this situation is resolved."

He continued to watch for a moment before turning to disappear back into the pitch-black hallway from which he'd come. He did pause, though, when Deth's voice interrupted his departure.

"I want to go home."

Vincent smiled ever so faintly at the suddenly fierce determination in the boy's voice.

"…We will speak again in the morning. Sleep now."

And then he was gone. Deth watched the doorway, uncomprehending as the night swirled about him and memories played through his head again and again, desperately searching for answers.

* * *

Reno watched the kid sitting on the couch with something of wary liking. He'd finished off the cookies before starting in on just about everything and anything in Vincent's cupboards. He talked a lot, but it filled in the silences left by their third companion, the master of the one-word sentence. The kid also seemed pretty okay with everything that was going on, which baffled Reno a little, but he supposed it was just another way of dealing with things. For a fourteen year-old… he was impressed.

"…I guess I've lost about two days, then, if it's the 26th today. Everyone back in Costa Del Sol is gonna be so worried. I've gotta get back really soon."

Reno looked up and smiled.

"No sweat, kid. We'll get you there. There's just a lot of stuff that we have to put together right now, and we can't afford to lose track of you. You know, with your modest entrance and all we're not quite sure if it's safe just to let you go back."

Deth looked thoughtful.

"…I guess you're right. I just… Yeah, sorry. I understand. It's not that you guys haven't helped me so much. I just really want to go home, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Reno couldn't help but wonder. The kid seemed to have taken to him almost instantly. It was very odd. Deth just smiled.

"So, is it true? About Vincent, I mean." Vincent was conveniently in the kitchen at the moment, and Reno smiled faintly.

"Yeah, it's true. A real life ex-AVALANCHE member."

Deth whistled.

"And I ended up in his house. What am I gonna tell my friends? They're gonna be so jealous." He laughed before turning serious again. "I mean, they're like the celebrities of the celebrities, right? They saved the Planet."

Reno nodded, but said nothing.

"I'm old enough to remember most of what life was like with Shinra, but a lot of the early stuff didn't mean anything to me. When you're ten, why would you care where your electricity comes from? I didn't know about any of the crappy stuff they were doing until afterwards, so I mean everyone's a little biased."

"…Yeah."

"Meteor and Sephiroth, though, that was something else. We all thought the world was gonna end. My mom and dad and I hid in Gongaga during the crisis; it seemed like as good a place as any to hide. They hate Shinra, my mom and dad, I mean. All the adults do. It's almost like, if AVALANCHE is so pure and good, then Shinra was the evil they had to beat, right? Sure they did bad stuff, but you know, I wonder if anything's ever really that easy."

"Nothing's ever that easy, kid." Reno's voice was a little faint, but Deth didn't appear to notice. "Anyway, don't worry too much about it. We'll make sure you get home and that nothing else happens to you."

Reno climbed to his feet from where he'd been sitting next to the couch. Deth's eyes followed him, and Reno shot him a quick grin.

"I'm just gonna go make sure our vampiric friend hasn't gotten lost in his own kitchen. I'll be back in a bit."

Deth nodded, returning the smile somewhat mischievously.

"On your way back, see if you can find me some more of that lemonade, will ya'?"

Reno laughed.

"On it."

As he closed the door behind him on his way out of the room, Reno tried not to think. He really disliked it when circumstances forced him to do that. No help for it, though. For now he had to find Valentine and make a plan of action. They still hadn't swapped information yet, so it was probably a good idea to start seeing what he could find out.

The kitchen was just down the hallway to his left, and Reno's footsteps were muffled by the long Wutaian carpet stretched across the floor. As he approached the open room, he could hear Vincent's voice, lowered but intelligible. Reno assumed he was speaking to someone on the phone, and approached even more carefully. He could make out what Vincent was saying.

"Yes, I agree. …I apologize for the short notice, of course… Tomorrow. …That will be fine. I must leave as soon as possible. …Of course. I will make the arrangements. …No, I do not wish anyone else involved. Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary. …I will. …Until then."

The phone clicked gently on to the hook, and Vincent turned around to face Reno, who was standing as casually as he could in the doorway. He met Vincent's eyes with a dead serious stare that matched the gunman's own. He did not appreciate mysterious phone calls when they might possibly jeopardize something as important as this, or possibly even his life. He did not speak, but waited for an explanation. Surprisingly, it was Vincent who gave in first.

"You know that it will not be possible to remain here, not considering everything. It will be a danger to yourself, and to all those close to you. Your trip here proved it."

Reno continued to watch Vincent, matching his stare evenly.

"There's no one close to me."

Vincent stood for a moment before speaking again.

"The boy, then."

Reno hesitated a moment, but he couldn't deny it. If Deth wasn't a target in and of himself, then he would be in danger if he stayed where he was. And even if he didn't have anything useful right now, he was almost certainly worth more alive than dead. Reno nodded curtly.

"Point conceded. What do we do about it, then?"

"…I have made arrangements for the boy to remain here, with others."

"Others?"

"…Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart."

Reno swore quietly, although loudly enough for Vincent to catch it.

"Fuck. Thanks a bunch, Valentine. I really wanted vigilante Spike turning up at my front door. This isn't exactly his problem, and I'm having enough trouble dealing with one do-gooder AVALANCHE member already, thanks."

"He does not know of your involvement."

"Uh-huh. Right. So when I'm rotting in prison or worse, I'll remember that."

"I said nothing of you. They know nothing."

Reno studied Vincent for a moment longer, wondering just how much he could risk here. Dealing with Vincent at all was a gamble, and he didn't know if he really wanted to put his life on the line. The next question was, would there ever be another option? Reno sighed.

"What's in this for you, Valentine, huh? I don't get it. Why the hell have you gone out of your way to do all this? I'd say it's because you like me, but we both know how true that one is, don't we? If I'm going to trust you you're going to have to do a hell of a lot better than this."

Vincent didn't move for a second, but when he finally did the motion was fluid and unhesitating. With his good hand he carefully drew a perfectly folded sheet of white paper from the counter behind him before handing it to Reno. The Turk gave him a quick speculating look before returning his stare to the paper. Vincent watched as he unfolded it.

"I do not want your aid, but neither will I be in your debt."

Reno did not answer, but instead let his eyes run along the single line of perfectly penned black ink. When he was finished, he read it again.

There was no name and no address either for the sender or the recipient. In the center of the page were two sentences.

_She is alive. If you wish to see her again, kill the Turk._

When Reno looked up again, several expletives came to mind. Vincent just watched him stoically as ever; arms crossed and face mostly hidden by his cape. Reno blinked one last time to make sure he was reading the thing right. He shook his head, still holding onto the letter.

"You don't believe it…?"

"No."

"Then why…?"

Vincent reached out again and took the letter from Reno's hand before gently refolding it and slipping it back onto the counter behind him.

"If you do not understand it, then it is not for me to explain." He turned his back on Reno, facing the kitchen window. "I will leave tomorrow, and I will not return until I discover who sent this and what their true intent is. Your move is your own."

"You're not fucking leaving me here."

Vincent turned again, his eyes narrowed somewhat.

"It is not your concern. I will not involve anyone else."

Reno stepped forward, stopping only inches from Vincent.

"The hell it's not my concern! Don't you even think? I didn't come this far just to have you say 'it's not my concern'!" Reno was angry, and it showed. "You think I want to work with you?" He almost spat the word 'you'. "AVALANCHE hypocritical asshole. But I won't let you disappear and leave the only link I have to this in the hands of Strife and friends!" He took a deep breath, but did not allow Vincent to speak.

"I'm going with you whether you like it or not – whether I like it or not. I'm a Turk, Valentine, and I'm sure you remember what that's like." Vincent did not shrug off the jibe, and Reno noticed. "I won't fight you because I need your help and I think you need mine. If you're stupid enough not to see that then fine, go get yourself shot in the head and see if I care. If that's the case than I'm better off without you anyway."

He turned to leave, stopping only to grab a can of soda of some kind off the counter on his way past. Cold anger seethed, and he did not stop to see what Vincent's reaction to his outburst had been. He knew he was making a mistake, knew that he only worked alone, knew that this could not end well. However…

There was no one close to him? Ha. Valentine had been right. People close to him were in danger, and although he hated himself and he hated them for it, he would not stop until he'd found what had happened to Elena and Rude. He could do this alone because he was a Turk, but he needed help because he wasn't. He reached the end of the hallway and moved to open the door.

"The Kalm docks, 11 am sharp."

Reno did not acknowledge the stiff anger in the other's voice, did not turn to look at him, and did not smile. He merely turned the knob, opened the door and went in before closing it again behind him.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

The morning was cool but bright. Sky half overcast, the clouds hung high overhead casting a grey tint over the otherwise pale blue sky. Faint sunlight streamed through, visible beams streaking across the horizon and playing across the waves lapping at the shore. Every once in a while the water would rush up over the docks, leaving a pattern of salt across the wooden slats and the smell of the sea everywhere.

Kalm lived up to its name in the mornings.

The town had been depressed under Shinra's reign, relying on its mines and shoddy tourist trade to turn a profit. Not surprisingly, after Shinra things had been even worse. Without electricity, just like everywhere else, the town had felt at a loose end with nowhere to turn. It hadn't been until very recently that everything had begun to truly look up. The temporary relief of seeing Meteor destroyed had gradually transformed into despair, but then again into a real, sustainable kind of hope.

It had been the rebuilding of Midgar that had done it, really. There had been many adverse feelings to seeing the great city rebuilt, but it had been done. It was AVALANCHE's fault, of course, like so many other things. Not that they hadn't had the best of intentions; thousands of survivors had been left homeless and with nowhere to turn. The rebuilding mission had begun almost as soon as the dust had settled. Although no one was eager to see Midgar rise again, it had by dint of sheer belief and effort risen out of the ashes as something habitable, and more than just a shadow of what it had been. It was still far from perfect, of course, but it was the home many so desperately needed and it was the center of activity for the flurry of AVALANCHE missions.

How most of a city had been built in two years was a matter of wonder, still. It had to have been seen to be believed. With the reactors completely levelled and everyone proclaiming that Mako was off limits anyway, there had been little except manpower to make it happen. And yet it had. All the resources that could be spared had been sent to help, on the understanding that they would return the aid everywhere else after. Corel had become a hub of attention instantly, and the coalmines had been temporarily reopened.

Many had called it a miracle. Others had said it was the greatest mistake AVALANCHE could have made. The truth as Reno saw it was that it didn't matter. Neo-Midgar was born, and it was what it was.

Kalm had profited largely from the new wave of attention and compassion pouring into Midgar. Although refusing to expand much from its small size, Kalm capitalized on the tourist trade, using the steady cash income to raise its stature. Investing in the new energy source, they'd diversified and started to bring in traders from Junon, Rocket Town and Wutai. It was still small, but for the first time in a very long time it was able to stand on its own.

This morning sea birds circled overhead, their harsh cries mostly lost in the wind. Reno propped his sunglasses up to hold his hair back, his Mako-tinted eyes adjusting instantly to the light. Arms crossed, he leaned unimposingly against a stack of crates eyeing the fishing nets lying over by one of the new storehouses. His newly fixed-up jacket cut the worst of the wind, and he studiously ignored all the proceedings going on behind him. Voices carried and reached him, but he cared little and largely tuned them out.

A short ways away, Vincent stood staring eye to eye with Deth. The death-glare the boy was giving him might have caused anyone else to reconsider, but Vincent did not hesitate. His own cape billowed gently, and his normal headband was less effective than usual. There was no compromise in his look, either.

"You will not accompany us."

"I'm going with you! I'll hide in the cargo hold with the fish if I have to!"

Vincent tried to stifle his irritation. He stood rigidly, trying to find the words to explain to the boy why they could not risk his life returning him home at this moment.

"We are going to Junon, and danger may be present. You will be at too high a risk."

"You think I care! I can look after myself! You can't just… I won't let you!"

Vincent couldn't help it this time, and sighed. Deth's dark eyes did not waver in their intensity.

"I have arranged for you to remain with two friends."

"I told you I won't!"

"…They are… trustworthy people."

"How am I supposed to know that! I trust you! Why can't I go with you?"

The fact that the boy trusted him and the Turk rang more than slightly wrong to Vincent, but he disregarded it as a last ditch attempt to convince him. True or not, it did not matter.

"They are the best people I know. We will return to take you back, but it must wait until after reconnaissance. Until then, you must not be in danger."

Deth turned his back on Vincent, and gritted his teeth. He hadn't counted on being left behind like dead weight, and it hurt. It didn't matter that Vincent was probably right, or that he himself was being stubborn as hell; all that mattered was that he didn't want to be stranded alone here. He hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye to Reno. Deth wondered angrily who Vincent could be trying to dump him on, and felt faint butterflies in his stomach when he remembered the gunman had been a member of AVALANCHE.

Unseen, concealed behind his boxes, Reno expertly struck a match to light and drew his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Flipping the box open and drawing one out he quickly lit it before waving the match out and dropping it carelessly onto the cement below. He took an appreciative drag of the cigarette and returned to staring absently out at the bay. Thin tendrils of smoke curled skyward, drifting with the breeze.

Footsteps rang across the open yard, and two figures could be clearly seen rounding the corner. The first person around the bend was a tall man with blond hair done up in unmistakable spikes. He was smiling, and he looked over his shoulder to talk to the person following. His own Mako touched blue eyes glowed faintly, but he looked far better than he had the last time Vincent had seen him, several months ago. Vincent nodded in recognition to see Cloud.

Tifa followed closely after, all smiles and giggles. Her long dark hair blew about, framing her heart shaped face and ruby eyes. She also looked happy. The pair of them wore what seemed uncharacteristic plain clothes; Cloud in a green sweater with plain beige pants and Tifa with a red jacket and a long floral skirt. Both of them caught sight of Vincent and Deth at the same time, and they hurried their approaching steps slightly.

They came together, two figures almost out of legend, to Deth's eyes. They looked exactly like they'd been described to him by awed villagers in Gongaga, but also just like two normal people. His dark eyes wide, he studied them and tried to piece together the two separate realities.

"Vincent!"

It was Tifa's voice, carried on the wind. She waved shortly, and took hold of Cloud's hand before tugging him more quickly towards the two waiting figures. Cloud followed easily, not seeming to mind in the slightest. They were both slightly breathless when they finally came up alongside their former companion and AVALANCHE member. Cloud grinned, and held out his free hand to shake Vincent's and Vincent took it slowly, noting in passing that neither Cloud nor Tifa had released the other's hand.

"Vincent. Good to see you." Cloud shook his hand warmly before letting it go again. "It's been too long. You don't come to visit us nearly often enough."

Vincent said nothing, and after a second's pause, Tifa turned to Deth. With her own eyes wide, she took in his appearance before smiling her own bright smile at him.

"You must be Deth. Vincent told us quite a lot about you… for Vincent anyway." She laughed, and Deth found himself laughing weakly with her.

"Umm… Yes, I'm Deth. Are you… really Tifa Lockheart?"

Tifa laughed again, finally letting go of Cloud's hand to reach out and shake Deth's. He felt a little faint, and returned the gesture mostly without registering it.

"Ms. Lockheart at your service. I hope Vincent's been nice to you while you were staying with him. He can be a little… quiet." She flashed her smile briefly at Vincent to let them all know she was just teasing him.

"Yeah, of course we love him," Cloud joined in lightly, "but he can manage to say less than the inanimate object of your choice." Deth laughed genuinely, feeling slightly more at ease.

"No, Vincent's awesome. I still can't believe I'm getting to meet the members of AVALANCHE in person, though."

"Oh, after you've known Cloud for a little while you'll get over that."

"Tifa!"

Tifa couldn't contain her laughter, and it spilt over.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just modest." Deth laughed again for a moment before turning serious again.

"I… really hope this isn't too much trouble… I mean, thank you all so much for taking me in after…"

"After you randomly fell off a highway and into our lives?" Cloud winked. Although his voice was quieter than Deth had expected, it was full of rich amusement. "Don't worry about it in the slightest." Tifa nodded.

"It'll be great to have a guest again, and I'm sure it was good for Vincent to have some company."

Deth opened his mouth to say something, but Vincent nudged him imperceptibly from the back. Deth closed his mouth again, before trying to cover it up with a smile. Whether really not noticing or just choosing not to question, Cloud and Tifa went on.

"Since I'm so busy Cloud's been doing most of the house work…"

"And of course I could use someone to help, if you don't mind."

"We all know how good he is at ironing…"

"Though of course Tifa does all the cooking…"

"Last time Cloud tried he almost burnt down the kitchen…"

"It was a one-time accident!"

Deth stared at his feet for a minute before slowly looking up at the two of them. His face was very serious.

"Thank you."

He stepped towards Cloud and Tifa, moving to stand beside them. Interrupted in their mock argument, they stopped for a moment. Thinking quickly, Cloud turned at last to Vincent.

"I know you too well to believe you'll actually tell me what you're up to, but I trust you. You will come back soon?"

Vincent hesitated for a second before finally nodding.

"I will return as soon as I am able."

Cloud nodded.

"Then that's good enough for me. Hopefully after that you'll be able to tell us what this is all about."

Vincent said nothing, and simply turned his back. With a final lift of his hand in farewell, he began to walk away.

"Good luck Vincent!"

Tifa stood on her toes, waving, and her chocolate hair blew all around her so that she had to brush it away from her eyes to see. Cloud watched, not smiling, but not unhappy. The two of them stood together watching as Vincent disappeared around the corner, and Deth remained silently watching as well.

They did not see Vincent stop as he rounded the boxes, and did not see the exchange that followed.

"He will be safe with them. Let us go now before anything further goes wrong."

Reno took a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it down and stepping on it. He nodded, his eyes cold. Falling into step behind Vincent, there was only silence. Neither spoke again nor looked back as they followed the walkway towards the ship that would carry them away southwest towards Junon.

* * *

The water swept past, leaving streams of silver ripples behind in their wake. The boat was far from silent, relying on steam power to get them where they were going as it had not yet had a new energy generator installed, but standing alone near the rail was relatively peaceful. Reno watched the shore pull away from behind them as they rounded the northern tip of the continent before starting their brief southward journey. He rather liked ships, and concentrated on just enjoying the feeling of miles slipping away beneath his feet.

Valentine was off somewhere, probably being his loner self. Reno did not need his company and neither did he desire it. He contented himself with just being here alone, letting the wind and the air and the sea carry him as far from Midgar as they could. There was something very satisfying about that feeling and for the first time in a long while he felt vaguely like he wasn't drowning. It was the non-polluted air, he supposed. It did strange things to his Mako and smog-stained mind.

Faint footsteps on the deck dragged his attention away from the water for a moment, and, certain it was Valentine, he looked up warily. Instead, a woman in a blue dress with short curly brown hair caught his eye and smiled as she passed. Her matching stiletto shoes clicked perfectly on the deck, and Reno watched her go after returning the smile. He resolved to look her up before they reached the harbour.

When he went to turn back to the railing, it was only to discover Valentine now standing beside him staring out across the water. Somewhat bitterly, he pushed away from the rail and moved to get away from the companion he definitely did not want.

"If we are going to remain hostile to one another, then there is no point in going any further."

Reno stopped. And wondered whether he should be angry or not. He felt as though he should, but where the anger should have been was only a hollowness he knew all too well. With a shallow sigh, he turned back to Vincent. His eyes reflected a tiredness he did not acknowledge, and he wondered wearily what the hell Valentine wanted and expected.

"Of course you're right Valentine, let's be best of friends forever and never fight again." He sighed again, and returned to the railing, fighting back the urge to sweep back his hair. It was a nervous habit he'd picked up somewhere in the last year or so.

"…This was your idea."

The statement almost made Reno laugh. He turned to look at Vincent, leaning one arm against the rail.

"Look. Elena and Rude – you remember them, right? – might be in some serious trouble. They're Turks, the other two who tried to kill you guys when we were all fighting like good little enemies should, but shit happens. I'm the only one who can look out for them if something did happen, and I'm going to find out exactly what the truth is."

Silence, except for the waves against the ship.

"I have reason to believe they might be in Mideel, but there's no way in hell I'm just walking into a trap. So I'm going to Junon to find out as much as I can. You can come or you can go, Vamp-boy, I don't care anymore and I'm too tired to argue. It's true that we might have a better chance if we do this together, but I'm going to kill the bastards who started this one way or another. So basically, suit yourself."

Vincent watched the water eddy around the bow of the boat before being swept away. On the distant horizon he could see the large islands jutting away from the Northern Continent, and the clouds above looked like rain. He thought for a moment.

"…Why Midgar?"

Reno looked up again, surprised.

"And where the hell else am I supposed to go? I thought you of all people would know that. I'm a fucking Turk." He relaxed his grip on the rail and turned around to face the cabin wall across from him before leaning back.

"Back then, in the Shinra days, they controlled everything. Where we went, who we saw, what we did to who. But Midgar was always where we went back to afterwards; it was always the hell we called home." He shook his head. "I doubt it changed that much since your day, old man. We got to leave on missions, but we always came home. We got to walk up on top of the pizza like we fucking owned the place, but we were prisoners just like everybody else. Jailers and prisoners, I suppose. I'm not bitter, just a realist. We didn't care, and I still don't. I chose the collar, after all."

The grin that followed the last statement was ironic, and Reno pushed himself up again, restless. The horizon was getting steadily darker with the impending rain, and he didn't much feel like getting soaked through at the moment. Valentine could stay, if he wanted to. He doubted the man would even bother to give him an answer so there was very much no point in staying here.

"I'm coming."

Vincent did not look up, but continued to watch the storm clouds roll in. Reno smiled, before turning away.

"Love you too, Valentine."

He took a step, and then another, and then stopped. He looked up at the sky, out at the sea and then back at Valentine before moving somewhat remorsefully back to where he had been, staring out across the ocean. Leaning forward across the rail to let the wind hit him as hard as it was able, he remembered why he loved ships.

Maybe he didn't mind getting wet after all.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

It was still grey and damp when the ship pulled along the coast towards Junon harbour. The worst of the rain had already fallen, coating the decks, the rails, the doors and most of the passengers with at least a thin sheen of dew. The air was cool and fresh, and a slight breeze eddied across the ship's deck. From his new spot at the prow, Reno watched attentively as the ship came slowly closer to its destination. The water churned behind the ship, dark and grey as the clouds overhead.

There was something about his posture – a little too straight and attentive – that gave away his tension. His jacket was wrapped tightly around him to keep out the cold, and his hands were buried tightly in his pockets. Eyes never wavering, he watched Junon, assessing, calculating. The lines under his eyes only served to highlight the hard set to his gaze.

The city of Junon sat broodingly ahead, its usually festive appearance dulled down by the weather and the chill. Lights filtered out into the damp, empty streets here and there, giving it an air of abandonment. The city hunched along the coastline, relishing the access to free water it had never really been allowed to enjoy before. Tall buildings rose here and there, in dozens of different colors that all looked depressingly similar under the overcast sky. Most of them provided housing for residents, but they had begun to separate out into distinct districts as well. Unlike Midgar, however, the city remained as a whole. The only difference from before was that if one wanted to shop, all the stores could be found in a certain area. It was practical and simple, making life a little more certain in these days that needed stability.

The upper layer of Junon had been dismantled almost immediately following Meteor. Reno had been there to see it, slightly curious in a morbid fashion as to the death of the final Shinra stronghold. And it had been an event to see. The streets had filled with construction tools and colours; hundreds of people from all around had come to cheer and celebrate as the upper military base had been torn down, beam by beam.

Reno had returned to Midgar afterwards, and had gone back to concentrating on staying out of sight. More so than ever. He had convinced himself that everything would be okay because they were Turks, and they always stuck together, through thick or thin. Then Elena and Rude had announced they were leaving, and he'd been stuck behind in the dark to deal with the enforced invisibility and the hatred all by himself.

Did he consider it abandonment? Of course they'd asked him to go with him, and had pleaded with him to reconsider. He couldn't possibly believe it was anything other than necessity that had taken them away, couldn't blame them. And as the ship finally began its long pull up into Junon harbour, Reno repeated it to himself over and over, in the silence of his head.

He stood tall as he watched the sharp metal of the ship's hull narrowly avoid scraping along the edge of the dock, and watched with some quiet amusement as eager kids out to make a gil or two milled about in search of someone needing help. He scanned their faces – several of them waved to him or gestured – but none of them were familiar. He was glad.

The unloading and disembarking would take a little while, although Reno was counting on the fact that he had no luggage to speed it up. He needed none. He had money, and had access to more money, so whatever he needed, he'd buy. It was one of the few things he took pride in that he placed no sentimental value in objects or places. It was a Turk's life to constantly be moving from place to place, and although Midgar had been his more or less permanent home for going on way-too-many years now, he hadn't lost his edge yet. In fact, he was rather glad to see the familiar cobbled streets and chaotic wharfs.

Unlike Midgar, which had been rebuilt from the ground up, literally, Junon had changed little in spirit. Less oppressed, true, but looking around he knew this place and was intensely glad to see it again. He couldn't wait to feel the pavement under his feet and the wide streets all around him. He wanted to see the cheap rooms, the cheaper taverns, the places he'd slept, drank and worked. The change of scenery was welcome, although he pushed away the implications. What did it matter? He was here, and that was what was important.

There was much to be done, and Reno had little idea how much time he'd have to do it in. He had no information, reliable or otherwise, and only a vague sense that time was probably of the essence. Again, no matter how pressing it was, it was always better to be safe. A quick, casual stroll in the relevant areas was definitely in order, and maybe some careful questions. To be honest with himself, he had no idea what he was looking for or even where, only that Rude and Elena owned a flower shop in the commercial area and were possibly in danger.

The flower shop had almost killed him when he'd heard. He'd laughed so hard that he'd almost cried. The telegram giving him the news had sat on his kitchen table for near on three weeks before he'd had the heart to do something about it. The strange twisting feeling it gave him whenever he saw it had been disconcerting, but neither had he been able to bring himself to throw it out. It had been the last three words that had been the problem, he knew.

_'Come home, __Reno__.'_

He'd made up his mind to burn the damn thing, one day, but after lighting the fire he'd been unable to do it. It had been puzzling, if nothing else. So, one day, he'd simply folded it, and stuck it in his jacket pocket on his way out the door. It had been a windy day in late October, and he'd taken a small detour on his way to a meeting with a client. A quick hop, skip and a climb away had found him on top of a bridge overlooking the city limits. He'd stared, taken out the telegram, stared at that for a while, and then slowly let it go. Reno had watched as it had flown away, almost torn out of his hand, not caring where it went. Then he'd turned, left, and had directed his attention to not being late for his meeting.

It all seemed rather fucked up, he reflected. Then again, he was pretty sure he was the one who was fucked up and not the world, but after further consideration he decided it was probably a bit of both. He didn't let it bug him much.

The ship finally came to screeching halt, and Reno's eyes reflected the dark blue of everything around him. He listened as the whistle screeched, telling all the passengers to stay clear until docking was complete. After that though, they'd be ashore. And once they were ashore, Reno, like everyone else, had some places and people to visit.

* * *

As the door closed behind her with a cheerful click, Tifa switched off the outside light and smiled.

The morning light streamed faintly in through the windows, most of the clouds thinned and disappearing here in Midgar. It had rained hard the day before, but the night had been quiet and peaceful and the morning looked promising. It was ten o'clock and already Tifa had been out and down to the market. She'd correctly assumed Deth would not be awake for a while, and Cloud wouldn't be by until a little later.

Making her way into the small kitchen, Tifa eased the large brown grocery bags onto the counter top before returning to the front door for a moment to slip off her jacket and shoes. Her hair was tied back at the bottom in her favourite, easy style, and she brushed some dark strands behind her ear as she moved. A quick rifle through the bags produced the products of the morning's shopping, and she smiled as she put them all away. The cupboards swung open and shut as she moved, and soon everything was in order.

The small house was like any of the others in the area, indistinguishable at first or second glance from any of the others lining her street. That was why she liked it so much. It was a small two-story home with white sides and a dark shingled roof, three bedrooms and a small backyard. She had no desire to live in the upscale models of the high-class areas of Sector 1, preferring instead the small, close, anonymity of these suburbs. Reeve understood, as did Cloud. They all understood. Cloud had chosen, surprisingly, to live not far away. His own house resembled Tifa's a great deal in its small size and lack of notability.

Tifa worked quietly, taking eggs, milk, and flour and combining them in a metal bowl. She hummed softly as she worked. Neither she nor Cloud was home often, it was true, but that made her appreciate the small house even more when she got to come back to it. Both of them spent days, sometimes weeks at a time at the latest construction effort, helping as best as they were able. It seemed that everywhere there were projects underway that needed them, and Tifa found it amazing, though exhausting, work.

Right now it was Midgar that was once again the project. In a bid to give Tifa and Cloud a little time off, Reeve had proposed that they take a month or so to return to Midgar and help plan some new directions for the city to take. Both of them had tiredly and gratefully agreed. It was exactly the chance for rest that Tifa had been looking forward to, even if Cloud was finding it more difficult.

They both attended the strategy and planning meetings, taking great pleasure in seeing the new buildings go up or a new generator being put in. Cloud, of course, had taken to this the way he had taken to everything else. Tifa watched fondly and a little worriedly as he threw himself into project after project, often spending nights in meetings with the President. Reeve was amazing at what he did, Tifa recognized, but he never seemed to be able to slow down. The entire city, or perhaps the Planet, seemed like a racetrack and once you gained momentum there was no way to slow down.

And so Tifa always took the time to appreciate mornings like this. She loved being able to just do everyday things in her own little house the way she'd always wanted to. For many it seemed a strange way for a member of the almighty AVALANCHE to pass their time, but to Tifa it was just about heaven.

The smell of cooking pancakes was what greeted Deth when he finally came down the stairs, yawning. He'd gratefully spent the afternoon of the day before with Cloud and Tifa, and they'd taken him down to their favourite restaurant for lunch. When he'd expressed a shy interest in seeing Midgar, they'd been delighted and had whiled away the hours showing him the local sights and smells. When they'd finally returned to Tifa's, the boy had disappeared upstairs to 'settle in', and when Tifa had gone up to see if he was alright he'd already been fast asleep.

Deth realized, as his stomach growled, that he was rather hungry. He reached the bottom of the stairs and followed the sounds of imminent breakfast towards the kitchen. The sight of Tifa setting out three plates, as well as the smell of bacon greeted him. Tifa looked up, her smile widening.

"Good morning. Hope you slept well."

Deth nodded, and returned the smile.

"Yeah, thanks. Sorry I fell asleep like that. I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Tifa laughed, and gestured to the table.

"Don't worry about it. I figured this would wake you up, either way. Cloud's always said that for my breakfast, he'd come back from the dead."

The sound of someone knocking on the door made them both laugh, and Tifa excused herself before disappearing around the corner towards the door. Still somewhat sleepy, Deth took a seat at the table and listened as he heard Tifa open the door.

"Cloud! What a surprise." Laughter.

"I knew that if I got here early enough I'd be in time for breakfast. Hope I'm not bothering you."

"You're always welcome, you know that."

There was the sound of slight movement, and then silence for a few moments. Finally, he heard Tifa's voice again.

"So, you coming in for breakfast, or what?"

"You couldn't keep me away if you tried."

Deth watched them come in, and smiled to see Cloud.

"Hey, Cloud! G'morning."

Cloud laughed softly and winked.

"I see you and I both had the exact same idea." He turned to Tifa, still smiling. "Need any help?"

She smiled, and shook her head.

"Thanks, but no. You're timing's gotten too good for me, Cloud. Just grab a chair.

"Oh, I'm sure I can help somehow."

Looping an arm around Tifa's waist, Cloud snatched a piece of bacon before stepping back quickly and making for the table. Tifa sighed, unable to stop from grinning. She tried to ignore Cloud's triumphant eating of the bacon as she piled plates in front of them. Finally, she sat down between Deth and Cloud, managing a pretence of anger at Cloud for about a whole thirty seconds.

The three ate breakfast together and made plans for the day. Cloud had to drop in at the cleanup of an area of Sector 4 that still had ruins of several old buildings that posed a health risk to everyone in the locale. He'd be back by one, however, so they decided to hit the market after. Tifa offered to pick up some new clothes for Deth while he was staying with them, as he had nothing of his own. He felt guilty, but Tifa insisted.

Deth had also taken the opportunity to ask if he could send his parents a message telling them he was alright. The new telephone lines didn't even span the continent yet, let alone to the west, so he had no other way to get in contact with them. Both Cloud and Tifa enthusiastically agreed, and Cloud promised to see the message sent off as soon as that afternoon if Deth finished writing it before they left.

After breakfast, Tifa got Cloud back by roping him into cleanup, and told Deth to explore the living room and see if he could find a book he wanted. She smiled, and he left the kitchen with an odd feeling.

Tifa's living room was small but comfortable, and he felt a little out of place in it. It had a TV in one corner, and book shelves against the adjacent wall. He scanned it, searching for something that would catch his eye, and ended up instead just taking in the room and its various decorations. He noticed several pictures on an eye-level shelf off to one side, and headed towards them. The shelf itself was a little dusty, but the pictures were obviously well looked after.

There were a range of different subjects, and he examined each one in order. On the far left was a picture of a young man and woman, standing together very formally. It was in black and white. The woman looked very much like Tifa, and Deth decided they must be Tifa's parents. The next picture was one of a group of children, smiling somewhat evilly as they obviously fought for place in the photo. To the right, a small girl with long dark hair and large ruby eyes was holding up two fingers behind the head of a boy he didn't recognize, grinning from ear to ear.

The next photo he knew better, although he had only met one person in it. A middle aged man with cropped blond hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips was falling forward while a young woman with brown hair, large brown eyes and the most wicked smile he'd ever seen hung on to his back, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. In the back, watching quietly, Deth could just make out Vincent.

From the kitchen, Cloud and Tifa's animated discussion dropped a tone, and unconsciously Deth tuned in. He felt bad about eavesdropping on anyone who'd been so kind to him, particularly Cloud and Tifa, but he couldn't help his own curiosity. He heard as Tifa set a dish on the counter, and was silent for a moment.

"…I think we have to talk."

Cloud was silent for a minute too, and Deth could hear the sound of a dish being placed carefully in the drying rack. When Cloud spoke, his voice was playful.

"What's to talk about, Tif? That's all you want to do lately."

"Cloud," Tifa's voice was quiet. "I'm serious. Please."

"I'm serious too. There's really nothing to talk about. You're just being paranoid."

"Cloud… I…"

"It's getting late. You can tell me after."

"Are you afraid? Is that the problem?"

Footsteps.

"Look, I'm sorry Tifa, but I really have to go. They're expecting me at a quarter to twelve and I'm going to be late unless I hurry."

"You're always running away. Why won't you just talk to me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've really got to go. We'll talk later."

The sound of the door opening and closing was followed by silence. Trying not to hear Tifa holding her breath in the next room, Deth forced himself to go back to the pictures.

The largest picture stood out, in a carefully dusted silver frame. Deth looked at it, and he knew instantly that it must mean a lot to Tifa. A large group of people stood in a line, all smiling, several of them striking funny poses. Cloud and Tifa stood at one end of the picture, both smiling, and Cloud's arm was around Tifa's shoulders. Next to them stood a huge dark skinned man holding a little girl, the guy with the cigarette, a large, white stuffed moogle with a black cat on its head, the girl with the evil smile (making a dramatic ninja pose), a sleek, red lion-like creature with a scar across one eye, and last but not least, Vincent. Even the dark gunner was smiling, and they all looked very happy. The background, Deth noted, was Gold Saucer.

The last picture on the shelf was smaller, though it also had a simple, silver frame. This one showed only two people, and Deth picked it softly up off the shelf to examine it. One figure he recognized as Cloud, and the other was new to him. It was a young woman who wore a long pink dress and a bright red jacket. She was very pretty, he thought, with her long brown hair tied back in a braid and done up with a ribbon. She had amazing green eyes, and she smiled as though nothing in the world could ever go wrong while waving at the photographer. Cloud, standing next to her, was obviously trying, and failing, to conceal a smile.

When Tifa came in to find Deth, the picture was sitting on her coffee table. She started a little before walking towards it. A quick look around assured her Deth was not in the room and slowly she picked the picture up carefully. She smiled softly as she looked at it, brushing a finger quietly across it before gently setting it back on the shelf beside the others.

Turning around, a sudden, and later she supposed irrational, fear hit her. Her eyes widened, and she ran for the door.

"Deth? Deth!"

He did not answer, for he was no longer there.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

            Reno walked through the room, looking it over critically. The Junon hotel was exactly the same as it had been the last time he stayed here, two and a bit years ago. He also swore that the sheets on the beds hadn't been changed since then. He picked a little disgustedly at a black sock plastered across the front of one of the dressers along with some old gum and graffiti. It smelled a little odd, and he was rather afraid that he remembered that too.

            Moving to the front desk where Vincent was still standing waiting impassively, Reno turned to face the clerk. The young woman at the desk was busy filing her nails and missed the warning in the redheaded Turk's eyes. Rather too prominently, he set both hands on the desk and leaned forward.

            "This is the best you've got?"

            "Uhuh. Finest bed and breakfast in town."

            "This is a joke, right?"

            The girl flipped her hair coolly and continued to examine her hands. Slowly, Reno removed his fingers from the desk, and a red warning light began to flash at the back of Vincent's head. 

            Indifferently, he moved forward. Ever so casually but exactly, he laid ten gil on the desk, his red eyes meeting the girl's green ones in an intense stare that she had difficulty returning. He stood straight again, moving just slightly between Reno and the desk.

            "Thank you for your trouble. We will be seeking lodgings elsewhere."

            "Suit yourself. There's nowhere else to go, though." She shrugged, and looked away. Despite her seeming misgivings though, she eagerly palmed the money obviously believing neither would notice. Vincent did not reply.

            He turned around to be semi-facing Reno, his back to the desk. Giving Reno only a very fleeting glance, he stepped aside before casually walking towards the dirty glass door leading back out into the rain-washed street. He did not wait, and was gone through the door before Reno stopped glaring at him. 

With a sigh, Reno imagined setting remote mines around the perimeter of the building as he reluctantly followed Vincent out into the afternoon gloom. It was a nice mental image, but right about now it would only succeed in making him happy if Vincent were inside when he got to hit the detonator.

            As the door jangled shut behind him, he turned on Vincent with some anger.

            "What the hell was that about? Now where are we going to stay?"

            Vincent, who was standing a little ways away surveying the mostly empty street, gave him a cold look.

            "I thought that the room did not meet your standards?"

            "Standards!? Hell! Do you know where I've slept!? I thought we could get the price down from its owner's ridiculously goddamn high horse."

            Silence. Vincent did not seem particularly concerned, and Reno wondered for the thousandth time if Valentine had any grounding in reality at all. He hissed a breath through his teeth, trying to regain his cool.

            "Look, Valentine. There are only so many dark holes in Junon. They all cost a hell of a lot of money. See? They tell you how much of a fortune they want you to fork over, you grudgingly pay the bill, and then you spend the night cursing them in your head. It's a system that works. If you don't pay, than you have nowhere to sleep except the gutter. Understand?"

            "I know another place."

            Reno looked skeptical.

            "Uhuh. And how many times have you been here since I was born?"

            Vincent turned to meet his eyes, his own gaze icy, like a cold fire. His cloak swirled slightly in the faint sea breeze, the dark sky giving everything a more ominous cast. 

            "Twice, if you must know." 

            With a last look up the street, he gestured in the opposite direction with his metal claw. It looked dull in the overcast light, but Reno knew better. Surprising him, he felt his throat clench, and he had to look away as he felt suddenly cold. When he looked back, Vincent had started unhesitatingly towards whatever destination he had in mind, apparently expecting the Turk to follow.

            "This way."

            Reno watched him disappear into the streets, staring at the retreating shadow that disappeared slowly into the newly creeping fog. Twice? He shook his head as he started after Vincent before he lost him entirely, smiling a little despite himself.

*          *          *          *

            The place Vincent led them to was definitely not what Reno was expecting. On the very outskirts of the city, seaward facing, it was a tall building done in red brick and cream colored stone. It stood much taller than many of the buildings surrounding it, as most of the larger businesses could be found closer to the center of the city. Still, it also managed to stand out simply by being in repair and relatively 'art' free. Dotted with large windows here and there and sporting a heavy maple wood door with no obvious signs, the building made Reno wonder.

            The inside was everything the outside was, but even more so. Decorated with scarily elegant style for Junon, its coffee walls stretched up to meet twelve foot ceilings. The pale tiled floors rang underfoot as they came in and a large maple desk sat in front of an attractive mako fountain replica display. Still following Vincent, Reno stared about the entrance hallway, trying to get an understanding of the place.

            At the desk, Vincent was greeted by a tall man with a wide smile and thinning hair. His dark eyes were bright, and a reedy grin of recognition broke out on his face as soon as he saw them approach.

            "Mister Valentine! We haven't seen you for a while!"

            Vincent nodded slightly, his face pale under the overhead lights.

            "…I have taken up residence in Midgar."

            "Well it's wonderful to have you again. We see too few regulars coming through the door these days." His voice had a note of wistfulness in it, though he appeared to have to shuffle busily through some papers on the desk. "I expect you do not have your key with you?"

            "No."

            "Well, well. Not a problem." He searched around for another moment. "Ah, here we are." Smiling genially, he produced a slim folder from a pile of many identical ones and drew out a sheet of paper from inside.

            "If you'll just sign here, sir." Taking the pen, Vincent signed the page with a fluid hand movement, before setting the pen down in front of him. The man positively beamed as he collected them up again, holding the paper almost reverentially.

            "It truly is an honor to have you here, sir. My father told me so much about you. I only got to meet you briefly last time you were here, if you remember, only long enough to update your file. Junon was rather in a state then, with Meteor and all, so of course it's no wonder…" He chattered on as he extracted a set of silver keys from one of his many drawers, passing them to Vincent without stopping for an instant.

            "I expect you'll be wanting an extra key for your guest, so I've included two here, although if one of them is no longer needed please return it to the front desk. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask…"

            Vincent took the keys with a nod of thanks before moving towards Reno. Easily, he slipped one of the keys off the silver ring before throwing it gently to Reno, who caught it reflexively. For no reason he could ever discern, the arc the key cut through the air as it turned and shone under the lights stayed in Reno's memory for a very long while. He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over the teeth just once so that he knew he could identify it in the dark if need be. 

            Pocketing the key, Reno followed Vincent over to the small central elevator of the building, noting that the inside was done with marble. As the doors closed in front of them and Vincent chose the sixth floor, Reno had to ask.

            "What the hell is this place?"

            "Somewhere to be if you do not want to be found."

            "Not found? It's in plain sight! It's three stories higher than anywhere else around and looks like it should be in the classiest neighborhood of Costa del Sol! How does that not stand out!?"

            "…Have you ever seen it before?"

            Reno frowned.

            "The building's obviously new. How could I have seen it before?"

            The slight hint of amusement on Vincent's face made him wonder.

            "New? I would guess that it is over sixty years old. Neither has it changed much since the first time I saw it."

            "Uhuh."

            Vincent was only silent, and Reno couldn't hold back the irritated jab.

            "I know this city, and I know the people who live here. It's been my job to notice everything and anything for as long as I care to remember. You're lying."

            Vincent's ever so slight smile said all he needed to say.

*           *          *          *

            The apartment was large and beautifully furnished. Stepping inside, Reno had been taken by complete surprise. Even the large hall downstairs was nothing compared to this.

            Spacious to put it mildly, the sprawling complex was composed of six main rooms. Done in rich hardwood and plush cream carpets, the 'apartment' seemed warm and inviting, even though little light shone through the giant front window. Dark red drapes hung over all the windows, and Reno pulled them back with an element of incredulity. The furnishings looked expensive, in several cases priceless, and Reno had a good idea of what he was talking about. Everything from the kitchen sink to the cupboard handles was beautiful, and he stared first at one thing, then another.

            There were three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a main sitting room, the kitchen, an office, and an open room leading in from the doorway and connecting the other parts of the apartment. Pricey leather couches and armchairs stood here and there while exquisite paintings hung on every other wall and even more books than Reno remembered being in Vincent's Midgar house were everywhere. He continued to stare.

            "…Gods. Does this place take up an entire floor!?"

            Vincent's tiny answering smile fielded the question for him once again, but he decided to reply anyway.

            "Very nearly."

            "And you own this place!?"

            Vincent's faint smile of pride was gone as quickly as it had come, and he looked away towards the outfacing window.

            "Yes."

            "Holy fuck." It didn't seem appropriate, but he could think of nothing else to say. Vincent continued to stay silent, apparently taking in the apartment for himself as well. It had been a very long time since he'd last set foot in here, though it looked exceptionally well cared for and rather updated. He doubted that even if he searched he would be able to turn up any evidence the place had been looked after. Even though some things were different, it brought back many memories.

            Reno turned slowly, deciding suddenly despite the fireplace near the window that he didn't want to take off his jacket.

            "I'd love to sound intelligent, but only the questions 'why' and 'how' come to mind."

            Vincent ran his eyes over the fireplace and the sofas and the shelves before answering.

            "…It was a long time ago. It… does not matter anymore." Hearing his shoes click softly on the wood floor, he stepped carefully over towards a picture next to the entrance leading into the kitchen. He gently raised a hand to the thin gold frame before straightening it ever so slightly. Yes, he had a new photograph to hang, but what to do with this one was still beyond him.

            "It was… for the future."

            He slid his dark shoes off in one movement, descending almost hurriedly around the corner and into the next room. Out of sight, he ran his good hand over the cool countertop, feeling the stone under to his fingertips almost fondly as he passed by. Yes, the place raised many memories, alright. Neither did he want to have to stand in a room with a Turk wearing a blue jacket while they came to him. This had been a secret place for dreams, and although the time for that was long past, it still felt strange to be here not by himself. There were certainly too many things about the Turk, too many ironies that made it all that much worse. It was not something to dwell on.

            Back in the open hall, Reno moved quietly to check out the picture Vincent had fixed, and he gazed with only a vague comprehension dawning. It was a woman, framed on the wall, sitting and smiling a very pretty smile while her chestnut brown hair fell about in ringlets and her violet eyes gazed out. She wore a dark smoky dress that offset here eyes and fell in pools around her feet. It looked like a corporate event; Reno recognized the reception room all right, and he could see the faint outline of another person standing to the far right of the shot. Silently, he thought.

            "Choose any room you wish. It matters little to me." Vincent's voice sounded unusually loud and harsh in the large, empty apartment. 

            He stood, alone in the kitchen, staring up at the ceiling, his hands resting on the table. He remembered sitting here, like this, before. He did not dare look down because he knew the picture would not be the same.

            "You… have a key. Use it as you will."

            And with that he fled into the darkness of the study where he would not have to face the coldly, and accurately guessing eyes of the Turk, and neither would he have to think. He closed and locked the door behind him, leaving Reno at something of a loss, still in the hallway, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do now.

*          *          *          *

            Evening came and went, and the hours trickled by slowly. Trapped inside the seemingly invisible building, all Reno felt was a building sense that he should be doing something. As he watched the last of the light disappear from the sky through the window he felt all the edginess and tension of enforced waiting come back with full force. Down there somewhere in the dark streets was a place he had to be, whether it knew it or not, and the fact that he was so close now wore away at his patience.

            After midnight, he decided he could wait no more, and having seen no further sign of Valentine he resolved to leave, find someone, do something. Reality was not long around the corner, however, and with growing frustration he sat back down again and tried to focus his concentration on anything at all. He considered finding the desk clerk and asking him some questions about the place, but decided against it due to the hour. He supposed the questions would probably not be welcome ones, and at this time of night it was unlikely that any questions at all would qualify as welcome.

            A quarter after one he realized how unprofessional he was being, and the thought forced a crooked smile. He was acting like a damned rookie, alright, and although the irony was really sort of funny, this was no time to be losing it. Now more than ever he had to stay together and do whatever had to be done. Right. Of course, easier said than done. Still, he closed his eyes and thought back to his training days, nine years ago, and just remembering helped a lot. He forced himself to focus on remembering the different techniques his then-current boss had taught him to deal with stress before a mission.

            Finally, around two, he finally fell into one of the beds in a room he liked best because it was closest. He needed to be awake tomorrow, but that wouldn't be a problem. He could run on no sleep if necessary and still not show it for up to four days. He was tired though, he realized as his head hit the pillow, and he shrugged off his jacket before slinging it over the side of a nearby chair. His shirt followed momentarily, but he got no further because by then he was asleep.

            Reno did dream that night, although he did not remember anything except darkness.

            When he finally awoke in the morning, it was nearing seven and he felt much better. The weird nervousness he'd felt the night before was completely gone, replaced by an equally strange optimism and the familiar quiet calm he felt before he started any job. 

            He considered his shirt gravely for a minute or two before deciding to ask Vincent if he had one he could borrow. He also resolved to find someone who made shirts that didn't rip as soon as you got shot, so help him. He hoped he wouldn't need it. Maybe later this afternoon once everything had been settled he could look around. Because, of course, everything would definitely be all finished by then, and tied up in a neat little package. He'd find out where Rude and Elena were, maybe hurt some of the people who'd put them there, and then life would go back to normal. Oh yes, it was shaping up to be a fine day.

            Outside, the sun had finally come out, although it looked like the day planned to be more or less overcast again. At least the cloud cover had thinned a little and it was possible to tell morning from night. Outside of his room, Reno discovered one of the two bedroom doors shut and the other still wide open. Grinning a little to himself, he decided to do a quick raid before Valentine woke up. 

            The unoccupied room was much the same as the one he'd slept in, although perhaps a little bigger. A locked chest against the back wall was the only thing that held Reno's interest, however. Still smirking, he easily picked the lock with a pin he found nearby before opening it. The contents mostly froze his smile, though.

            Inside, perfectly folded was a navy blue jacket with matching pants and white shirt that looked as if they'd been worn once, if ever. Valentine's spare change of clothes he reasoned automatically, if a little darkly. Then, another part of his brain added, at least now he couldn't doubt how old this place was. 

            His hands suddenly cold, Reno replaced the jacket quickly. Better to make this quick, since he'd already come this far. Hurriedly lifting the familiar suit, he discovered several shirts underneath that also looked like they were brand new before pulling out a black one from near the top. He realized, feeling the self-satisfied smirk come back again, that the shirt was real silk and he wondered what Vincent would think when he saw him wearing it. Closing the trunk again before relocking it, the suit flashed by his eyes once more and he decided maybe he didn't want to know after all.

            The shirt fit perfectly, and he smiled as he caught his reflection in a mirror. It didn't look much like him, although the battered blue jeans helped a lot. Still, he had an image to keep and didn't want to disappoint whatever horrible things Valentine might think of him. Quickly, he unbuttoned the top two buttons and made sure the silk shirt hung loose over top of the jeans. He took a last look, and undid the third button for good measure before smiling again. Much better.

            Now there was the question of breakfast. As he walked towards the kitchen, Reno reflected on the fact that breakfast made everything better. He bet even Valentine wouldn't begrudge him the shirt if there was breakfast involved. The problem, however, was getting said breakfast. Reno was far from modest and knew he was a hell of a cook, although in the past his culinary repertoire had largely been used to catch whoever he'd been dating. Not nice, not really, but honest. Besides, there was the fact that he had no idea in the slightest where Vincent kept anything in his kitchen. Hell, he doubted there was anything there in the first place. They hadn't brought anything in, and he was pretty certain Vincent hadn't been here in a while.

            No matter. He could make do with whatever was there. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Reno swung open an oddly modern-looking fridge and glared half-heartedly at its undeniable complete and utter emptiness. The freezer was the same, and he closed it with righteous annoyance before starting on the cupboards. 

            It was several curses and thumps later that he finally came to terms with the fact that there really was no food. _Sheer genius, Valentine. _They could both starve, and then they certainly wouldn't have to worry about missing people or mysterious letters! Oh yes, of course it made sense. Definitely Valentine worthy logic, he decided darkly. Whatever the case, there was nothing for it. Reno rather doubted anyone would deliver to this place, so he considered his options as he continued to unconsciously scan the apartment for ideas.

            He was contemplating the existence of a small corner breakfast café he'd seen on his way here when he left the kitchen and began to head back around the corner. He didn't realize there was anything there until he walked into it, reacting instantly.

            "Geez, fuck!"

            He started back violently, as did Deth. 

            Reno stared at the boy, as the boy stared back, his eyes wild. It took a moment for what had happened to register on the boy's face, and he stared around him, stunned. Reno looked rather surprised himself.

            "Deth? That you, kid?"

            "Reno…?"

            The boy's bright white hair looked tussled and wind blown, his dark eyes reflecting only the complete confusion as to where he was or what in hell's name was going on.

            "Holy shit, kid. I'm the least likely person I know to have a heart attack and you just almost gave me one. What are you doing here? Did you get in last night?"

            Deth stared around him for another minute before shaking his head.

            "No… I think I only just got here."

            "What?"

            "Umm… Reno? Where is 'here' exactly?"

            He looked scared, and Reno began to wonder seriously if maybe that wasn't a good idea. He decided he needed to repeat himself.

            "What?"

            Slowly, Deth held out a hand. He was even paler than last time Reno had seen him, and it was obvious he was shaking. Suddenly feeling another one of those weird waves of compassion he couldn't justify, Reno realized he couldn't feel anything dangerous, not anywhere. If there was something – besides Deth being a very long way from where he should have been – his nerves would have been screaming by now. Equally slowly, Reno took the boy's hand and held it tightly.

            "Hey, kid." His voice was softer now, and he could hear something from near the bedrooms, which probably meant Vincent was awake. He smiled at Deth, forcing away his own speculations and worries.

            "You're gonna be fine. You're in Vincent's apartment in Junon." _Which I have no idea how you found… _"It's gonna be alright," he repeated.

            Deth stared at Reno, who had knelt down to the same height. He wondered vaguely if he was hurting Reno's hand by holding it so tightly, but Reno hadn't said anything. He was suddenly intensely grateful for it.

            "Reno…"

            "Yeah?"

            Without warning, the kid was suddenly wrapping his arms around Reno and holding on to his – Vincent's – shirt as tightly as he could.

            "I'm so glad to see you."

            He realized the kid was crying, and Reno's eyes widened slightly. Deth had seemed like a really together kid when he'd met him before. What in hell had happened to make the fourteen-year old react like this? He had a strange feeling that whatever it was, he had to find out very soon. There was a good possibility that he didn't want to know, but the cheerful optimism was beginning to slide. Things were bad; he knew it, Vincent knew it, now Deth would almost certainly know it. The only choice was to retaliate with all the 'not good' he possessed. And hope. A lot.

            He saw Vincent come around the corner, his long cape missing and his bandana gone. His eyes were questioning, worried, and when he saw Reno with Deth it changed nothing. Reno wished very sincerely he had something to say to explain it, or to make it better, but he really, really didn't. 

            He noted that Vincent might not comment on his shirt now, but the idea seemed drastically less funny as a terrified kid separated from his family, friends and everything he knew cried his heart out on the shoulder of one of the two people who had absolutely no idea how to comfort him.

**A/N – **Well, to say my plan didn't work is putting it mildly. I only managed to get more behind. Ick. On the bright side, my kitty had kittens and I now have four kittens in my room and not a whole lot of sleep. It's okay; they're cute. I forgive them. As to the story, well, I'm still aiming to catch up and I'm hoping like hell (thanks Reno) that I can post two chapters on Saturday to make it up. Thanks for your patience everybody. And by the way, I love Vincent's apartment. ^_^


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

            The streets were mostly dry as Reno walked, the pavement still damp in patches but now largely safe thanks to the cool morning. The clouds had closed around the light patches again though, throwing the city into dreary shadow. All around, the winds had changed direction and picked up a little, now blowing chill air down from the north. Dark skies reaching all around promised more cheerless days to come.

            Reno walked with his head down, seemingly unassuming but his steps quick. Today, it seemed, people were willing to dare the weather and here and there clusters of them strolled down the street or migrated from shop to shop. Reno was glad; with the dark shirt and his jacket left conveniently back at the apartment, he blended in with the usual pedestrians. Today he just might need all the security he could get.

            As he walked, Reno's thoughts mirrored the day outside. Part of the reason he walked quickly was to hide the anger, or at least spend it in a constructive way until he found someone he could hurt. It was that damned Valentine, him and the kid, and he hated them. Maybe the kid less, but definitely Valentine. He wondered if anyone would miss the tall, secretive building if it happened to disappear in the next 24 hours, and decided probably not. Of course, he couldn't, not now, not when his only other leads in a case he was no closer to solving were there. Still, he derived a grim satisfaction from the thought.

            What was Valentine playing at? That's what he would really like to know. The vampire was delusional, perhaps, but that didn't justify it. He of all people should know that there are no heroics in a Turk's life. There had never been, and Reno would fight to the death to keep it that way. 

            He turned a corner to the right, heading towards the inner city.

            When the damn kid had made his appearance out of nowhere, Reno had felt bad for him. Alright, he admitted it. So shoot him. But it was what followed that had burned so much. 

            Once the kid had become coherent again, he'd apologized eighteen times or so, obviously hoping Reno and Vincent would forget about the whole incident. A little hard, considering the random teleportation that appeared to be involved. He'd been a little put out by the lack of food in the apartment, but he'd been calm enough to talk pretty quickly. Not wanting to rush Deth but knowing that time was short, Reno had tried to get him to explain it all. The answering words he'd gotten, although he didn't know why, had sent a shiver down his spine.

            _"It was… I don't know. I just don't know. I was standing in Tifa's living room, looking at her pictures on the shelf. There was one of all AVALANCHE together, and I got this weird feeling looking at it. I dunno. It probably doesn't matter. I just looked at it, and even Vince looked happy. I just… wanted it to be like that again, you know?"_

_            "Okay…Great. What then?"_

_            "Well, then I picked up this other picture. It had a girl I didn't know in it standing with Cloud. She had a pink dress and green eyes and this smile…"_

_            "The Ancient. Gotcha."_

_            "What?"_

_            "It was the Ancient Strife and co. were traveling with. The last member of AVALANCHE."_

_            "What happened to her?"_

_            "Dunno exactly. Died."_

_            "Oh…" _

            Vincent had said nothing, he remembered. So, after a moment, Deth had gone on.

_            "Again, it's kinda weird. Sorry. I was just looking at the picture and in it Cloud was trying not to smile and it was just one of those moments that… felt right? I can't explain it better than that. You know sometimes when you're with some people and you're happy and you just know, 'this is where I want to be'?"_

_            "Yeah… I know."_

_            "Well, it was like that. Sorry I can't explain it better."_

_            "Don't sweat it. How did that land you here, though?"_

_            "I can't figure that out either. I was looking at this picture, and then suddenly it felt as if the whole world had gone wrong. Like, twisted all around me. I panicked. I can't remember too well, but I think I ran for the door and the last thought I remember was that I wanted to find you guys. Then it all went dark."_

            Reno thought about it now, and it still made no sense whatsoever. He'd understood more or less what the kid had been trying to tell them, but that didn't make it better. According to what Deth had told them, he'd lost about a day between when he'd last been in Midgar and his sudden appearance. Reno felt as if he could feel the outline of the puzzle, but he didn't have all the pieces. Hell, he didn't even have the first four corner pieces. But that was where Valentine had gotten it wrong. 

            That damnable vampire had made some very stupid assumptions. Who in hell did he think he was? The thought made Reno dig his hands into his pockets a little deeper. He hadn't thought that Valentine could honestly be that stupid.

            Sure, he'd done the logical thing, calling up Strife and Lockheart to make sure they didn't have heart attacks. He'd reassured them in his patently untalkative way that they had Deth and the kid would stay with them. They had little other choice. Sending him back now might be dangerous, and with no idea what was happening it was safer to keep him close. A trip to Costa del Sol would see Deth safely home, and then they could all get on with their own bloody lives. 

            But Valentine, the idiot, had turned around afterwards with his dark eyes and his 'look at me I'm mysterious' attitude and had expected Reno to _care._ How could he be that idiotic? He'd calmly informed Reno that they would investigate, solve the mystery. All along implicitly telling Reno that they were off to be good little superheroes, trooping off to save the day. Reno just could not get over the almost inconceivable stupidity of it. This was his problem and once it was solved the world could go to hell for all he cared.

            When had Valentine gone so perilously wrong himself? He'd been a Turk; he knew the ropes. He'd even played the AVALANCHE game for his own personal benefit, and Reno had admired him for that. But this… 'No fucking way' was the politest way of putting it he could think of. He wanted nothing to do with heroics, or honor, or justice or any of that other bullshit. He didn't want to be singled out and noticed by all the people he'd spent valuable time avoiding. All he wanted, the only thing, was to find Elena and Rude and know they were safe so he could go back to his dark hole in Midgar and get on with what remained of his life.

            As he got closer and closer to the market, more people appeared. It was a comforting thought, that people were so predictable. He also really, really didn't want to stand out today. There hadn't been any time to do anything about the hair, but unless things were more drastically wrong than he expected, it would not likely be a problem. The central market of downtown Junon would be emptier today than usual, probably, but it was always a bustling place filled with people of all nationalities. Besides, it would be good practice. He hadn't done a good covert reconnaissance job in a while and the last thing he wanted was to get rusty.

            The store in question he was looking for was not far off of one of the main market street branches. He'd gotten the address easily enough; a quick word to the slightly creepy desk guy in the apartment building had produced a lot more information about the shop than he could comfortably have expected to hear. When Reno had blandly asked the man how he knew Elena and Rude's revenue for the past six years was, he'd only smiled eerily and said that it was common knowledge. Reno had left the building feeling a little less secure after that.

            Still, getting information easily was a good thing no matter what superstitious people told you. As a Turk, it was important that you ran only on cold logic, and if it's easy than it's easy. He had little in the way of equipment to deal with problems if they arose, so he'd just have to deal with things as they came and hope that they wouldn't come at all. Of course he had his gun, but he'd left the EMR Valentine didn't know he'd brought back in his room. Just as well; he was traveling light today and he didn't expect any confrontation.

            He watched the stalls as he passed them, a variety of colors, sights, and smells rising up around him. Spices drifted in the wind, and seemed an odd contrast to the biting cold that brought them. He was used to the temperature, though, and it bothered him little if at all. The thin shirt was the only protection he needed against the wind. If he was up north in the snow fields, a jacket might be needed, but he could deal without issue. At least, he supposed, Mako injections were good for something.

            A large shop front proclaimed that it sold the trendiest fashions in the city for the best prices, and walking by Reno resolved to visit the tiny little out-competed stand across the road from it. Maybe they wouldn't sell rip and bullet-proof shirts, but unless he wanted to keep stealing Valentine's, a trip there would be in order. He didn't even need to remember Tseng's chillingly dispassionate summation of market practice to know where to go. Turks always needed to know how the world worked, after all, if they were to manipulate it.

            The turnoff he was looking for came into sight on the left, and Reno casually crossed the road before sauntering unimportantly down this new direction. Feigning interest, he wandered from stall to stall, occasionally picking something up to examine it before continuing on. The road was wide but not long, and he sought out the store on the very corner.

            It was there, of course, just as the man had told him it would be. A large red and white sign proclaimed that flowers were sold here, and Reno felt a tiny grin appear. It was like Deth had said, just like it in fact. Standing here and looking at the flower displays in the windows, it just felt right. The strange twisted irony that could lead two Turks to open a flower shop of all things made Reno want to laugh until Elena and Rude found him on the corner, just standing there, laughing. 

            A large billboard to the front of the shop told Reno that roses were on special sale this week, and he let the grin creep a bit further before heading towards the door. He noticed the bell that would ring as soon as he pulled it open, the flowers lined up in perfect rows, the cheerfully Elena decoration, the bright lights that weren't on, the locked door and the closed sign hanging against the window.

            Despite that, he pulled on the door handle, willing it to open. Its solid refusal to move made him feel suddenly slightly sick. He stared at the door for a minute longer before noting the closed sign was crooked. Although it was hung on the inside of the door, he had a very strong feeling neither Elena nor Rude had been the ones to hang it there. Trying to keep the weird panic he felt from rising above a bare minimum, he turned with a completely blank face and headed back out into the street.

*          *          *          *

            This time, information had not been very forthcoming. No one in the neighboring shops knew anything about it other than that the store had been closed for several days now and neither Elena nor Rude had been seen. Many of them were fairly snide about it, implying that the store had probably gone under due to bankruptcy, and Reno kept his hands carefully in his pockets. 

            He figured if worst came to worst he could head back to the apartment building and ask the desk guy – he was certain the man would know where Elena and Rude lived, as well as the rest of the entire population of Junon – but he didn't intend to give up yet. Still, he was quickly running out of options. The last store he tried had yielded nothing but a disapproving glare from the woman at the counter who informed him that if he wanted flowers there was absolutely nowhere else to buy them except her own shop. When asked by the woman who he was buying them for he'd replied that they were 'for her daughter' before making a hasty retreat back out into the cold, wet street.

            Standing in the damp, he'd given the street another look over before finally giving up. No one here knew anything, of that he was certain. He'd heard nothing but ignorance today; a lie would have been recognized in an instant. What that left was to return empty handed and hope that further leads would be forthcoming. He was just turning to leave when out of the corner of his eye he saw a young woman approach the front of the locked flower shop.

            Pivoting quickly to watch her, Reno saw as the girl tugged on the door, glared at the sign and turned disconsolately away. The look of worried frustration on her face that nearly paralleled the one he'd worn before was suddenly a source or inspiration and hope. Hurrying, he jogged over to catch up with her.

            "Wait! Excuse me!"

            The woman turned around to stare at him, almond eyes inquiring. They were a deep blue, much darker than his own, and they had a Wutaian set to them that was impossible to miss. Black hair fell just below her shoulders, also a telltale indication of her heritage. In a quick study of the woman, he judged her to be about his own age and probably from a middleclass Junonian-Wutaian family. He wasted no time in putting on his best concerned citizen look.

            "Sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but notice you trying to get into the shop over their." He vaguely pointed in the direction of the flower store. "I was wondering if you might know why it's closed today."

            The woman gave him a funny look before re-shouldering her slim black purse.

            "I'm sorry. You are…?"

            Reno smiled quickly.

            "Oren Vale. Nice to meet you."

            The woman shook his hand with a tight smile.

            "Nice name. It suits you." Reno's own smile widened. "I'm Yolie Takahashi."

            "Nice to meet you too, Yolie. I'm looking for the proprietors of the store. I'm an old friend, you see, and since I was passing through I was hoping to look them up."

            "You know Elena and Rude?" Her smile became more genuine.

            "That's right. We were all friends back in Midgar before Meteor, although we've gone our separate ways in the past few years."

            "Always happy to meet a friend of a friend."

            "Oh?"

            "Well, I'm kind of Elena's self-proclaimed best friend." She laughed unselfconsciously and Reno found himself attracted to her upfront-ness. "Met El' when they moved up here, and she seemed kinda depressed. It was my father that helped set them up with their shop and inventory."

            Reno nodded, and turned to half-look at the shop.

            "Friend of a friend, huh? I'd love to become your friend and make the circle complete, but right now I'm a little worried about Elena and Rude."

            Yolie nodded, her eyes serious, only a trace left of her smile.

            "Mm. Me too. It's not like them to just disappear like this, not at all. If something had come up I'm sure they'd have told me." 

            "Definitely not a good sign. I was thinking of dropping by their house to see if everything's all right, but I don't have their address."

            Quickly and efficiently, Yolie opened her purse before locating a slip of paper and a pen. She scribbled a house number and street name down before handing him the paper and slipping the pen back into her purse and closing it again.

            "Here. I trust you. I'd even come with you, but I'm running late as it is. I'll probably drop by the house later to check in, and if you're still there maybe I'll see you there."

            "And if I don't?" He was smiling again, although this time his eyes were a little dangerous. Her own, however, were no less so.

            "Feel free to look me up. I'll look forward to it."

            She turned, and started away with a small wave. Her low heels clicked softly on the pavement, and he watched her move away before turning over the paper. On the other side was another address, and this one in even faster handwriting. The fact that he hadn't even seen her write it was probably what made him decide to take her up on the offer at a later date. Even if the empty store still had the sense of profound wrongness, it was a start.

*          *          *          *

            The house was empty, too. Not only was it empty, but creepily so.

            When Reno had arrived, he'd realized something was wrong before even starting up the front walk. The small garden was wrong, the front steps were wrong, and the darkness inside the house was very wrong. The door had been locked, but at this point he hadn't let it be a problem. There were few people around to see anyway, but he made a show of finding a 'key' and working it into the lock before finally, triumphantly opening the door. The bent wire was promptly returned to his pocket with silent thanks, and the realization that Elena and Rude had felt no need to install a better lock stirred up a strange feeling he couldn't put a name to. There was something of sadness to it.

            Inside of the house was even more wrong than the outside. There weren't even any pretenses here. Nothing stirred within the confines of the house, not even a stray air current. No dust had settled, and only a resounding hollow feeling was left behind to remind anyone entering that once there had been so much more here. 

            Wooden floors stretched through the small house, but they made no sound where he walked and no comfortingly familiar creaks were to be found. As an experiment he whistled, only to hear the sound die instantly. It was almost as if the walls were absorbing all invading noise. Next, he lit a cigarette, feeling very alone in the empty house, and he watched as the smoke hung heavily in the air. A bad feeling began very slowly to creep up on him.

            He wandered the first floor of the house slowly, wondering what it had been like before. The kitchen also was completely bare, stripped to the floorboards of anything that might betray life. He scanned that room, too, wondering if that was where the fridge had stood, or if this was where Elena and Rude had sat at their table, talking late into the night. A sliding door led out to a small backyard, but he did not look. There would be nothing of importance there, and it would be just as wrong as the front.

            He hesitated before moving upstairs, but knew it could not be avoided. He tested the first wood step, noting that they had once been carpeted. It made no sound at all, and he made his way up, sliding a hand along the railing and feeling the strange warmth of it. There was more, he knew, more emptiness and more silent echoes of a life that wasn't his. He did not want to see them, or the freshly painted white walls that were everywhere. He had no doubt that the flower shop would look like this too very soon, perhaps by the time he returned. He decided he did not want to go back.

            At the top of the stairs, Reno hesitated, turned around, and descended back down again. He had no need to see what wasn't there. The only question remaining was, what next? 

            He knew Elena, and he knew Rude even better. The two had been partners and friends for seven years, and he supposed that if anyone could figure this out, he could. Now if only he could think… He glared suspiciously at the walls, feeling suddenly as if they were pressing in around him, listening to his thoughts. He shook it off quickly before lighting another cigarette.

            What would Rude do? If he had any inkling whatsoever of whatever had happened, he would have tried to insure against it, obviously. There was no guarantee this hadn't been instantaneous, surprise. To a greater or lesser extent, it probably had been. Still, what would Rude have done…?

            Reno made for what had been the main room of the house, leaving a trail of heavy smoke behind him. He wished sincerely he had a good stiff drink as well. No help for it though. Waving out the cigarette, he dropped it on the floor. He felt no guilt for the action; it was something where there had been nothing. Now… time to see exactly what he was up against.

            Dropping to his knees, Reno carefully ran his hands over the wood floor, feeling for any kind of crack or irregularity that might show him something. Nothing, of course. Well, fair enough. Rude never did a shoddy job of anything, no matter how much of a rush he was in. So, time to try something else then. Softly, he wrapped against the boards, trying to feel for a difference, or perhaps a slight change in sound. Nothing came immediately, and he tried to think.

            Moving forwards, Reno worked his way around the room, testing the floor and occasionally the walls for something, anything. It wasn't until he had begun his second trip around that he finally began to pick up on it. 

            Standing, slowly, Reno carefully stepped towards the center of the floor. It was solid, of course, and the nothingness was there if he had no doubts. Thinking fast, he stepped right, and then right again, keeping his steps even and measured. Seven steps right, almost touching the back wall, and then three steps forward, one back, one left. That was it. He could feel it almost as soon as his feet touched the wood.

            Seven, three, one, one. Of course! He should have known. Only Rude would think of something that stupidly convoluted. It had been the code to Tseng's office, which he and Rude had cracked the first week after Tseng's promotion. They'd plastered the inside with the worst photos they could get their hands on of Scarlet, which were pretty bad considering. Tseng had walked in the next morning, walked out again, and started to laugh. He and Rude hadn't even gotten into trouble because Tseng was too proud of them for breaking the code. The lock had called for the input of thirty-five numbers followed by the depression of the whole pad. Thirty-five numbers, right. Seven, three, one, one. He and Rude had used it as their secret code for 'trouble' ever after.

            Quickly, Reno began to examine the floor again, but with a different approach this time. Now he didn't look for differences, but places where the grain of the wood met up exactly. Not too exactly, of course, that would have been a dead giveaway. Smiling a little, bleakly, he extracted a small nail file from his pocket that he'd swiped from one of the stores he'd visited that morning. Drawing it along the edge of two boards, he dug it between them.

            The board gave way with surprising ease, and Reno lifted out as much as he could from that side before turning and starting on the left, and then the right. It took a little effort, but no time at all. He finished quickly, standing back to admire his handiwork before gripping the uplifted section of flooring as best he could and pulling up.

            The boards clattered against the rest of the floor, dissonant with the hungry silence, and Reno slipped quickly into the small space below. It was a hollow not quite his full height, and about a meter and a half across. Ducking down, he peered about while wishing he had a pocket light of some sort. It was completely dark in the shadows under the floor, and Reno saw nothing at first.

            Trust Rude to make things unnecessarily difficult. Although, under the circumstances, Reno was quietly glad for the extra precaution. He had no trouble finding what he was looking for this time, though.

            The far right corner of the small enclave came free in his hands with only minimal effort, and he pulled the fake panel lose and away. His and Rude's office had been on the far right corner of the Turk's floor when they'd been rookies and hadn't merited their own space yet.

            Inside he found only a thin piece of paper, smooth under his hands and relatively new by the feel and texture of it. He took it hurriedly, moving towards the light. He knew without knowing that there was no time to waste at all. Pulling up to stand straight again, he held the paper up so the thin daylight could let him read it. He recognized the handwriting instantly as Rude's, careful and precise as always. The black ink it was written in was unfamiliar to him, but it looked inexpensive and was probably one of the common Junon brands. He read.

_            Reno, if you're reading this, get away now._

_            They're coming for us, I can see the signs already. They say it's an end to Shinra and the start of something new. I don't know what happens to the people who disappear, but neither Elena nor I want you dragged into this. Junon's already taken, and probably Midgar. Get somewhere safe and keep your head down. I don't know if this one will blow over, but if you have a chance to get out, do it. _

_            El' and I never forgot you. Run._

            Reno swore and crumpled the paper in his hand. He looked around the empty house a last time, as if searching for something that would contradict the note he still held. Only the emptiness answered. 

            Apparently things were a lot more drastically wrong then he'd thought after all.

**A/N – **First and foremost, this chapter is dedicated to Tijuana Pirate because it was her birthday yesterday. Happy eighteenth, T-Pirate. Just no more root beer, okay? ^_- Anyway, Reno's being depressed and he probably has reason. I don't think Vincent wants to be a hero, so I don't know what Reno's talking about, but I suppose we'll see. Heh. I'm going to try to post another chapter but it won't be until later. Mega work has to be done this weekend, so that has to take priority. Le sigh.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The second Reno stepped out of the house and into the open air again, he knew he'd made a mistake. 

The wind whistled through the eaves of the small house, and he realized instantly that it was the only sound to be heard. The steady trickle of passersby seemed to have dried up entirely, and although the ever-present hum of city life was there, it was so distant as to be almost absent entirely. No doors opened, no children laughed, no birds cried overhead. It was the far side of uncanny, and Reno had never really believed in coincidence.

He saw them then, coming down the street, and unafraid he stood and watched.

They came in clumps of two and threes, hands in pockets, talking to one another as though nothing at all was wrong. They smiled and they laughed, but everything else about them gave them away. Their postures, their studied inattention, and the occasional careful glance in his direction sent warning signals flashing through his head. There were about twelve of them, men and women, all in the age bracket of eighteen to twenty five or so. Reno remembered the group that had attacked him back in the Midgar back alley, and the warning lights went up a notch.

The realization that they were all around the house and the street hit him belatedly, and Reno cursed himself for letting it happen. How he had managed to not notice the telltale silence, even while preoccupied inside, eluded him. This was not good at all. If this was the same group that had seen to Elena and Rude's sudden disappearance, they were good, whatever else they may be. 

Reno scanned the street, looking for a way out. He suddenly wished, to his bitter amusement, that he hadn't mentally sent all those horrible deaths to Valentine after all. No, that was going too far. He was a Turk. He needed no one's help, no matter the situation. They would not be able to get him, because he would not let them. He would fight if it was necessary, and then he would get on with finding out what the hell was going on here. He remembered dispassionately the note back inside the house, and he knew he would not let this end here, not until he had answers.

They were getting closer, and he still hadn't moved. Several of them had dropped all pretenses now, and were heading directly for the house. Three of them, a teenage boy with spiked hair, a girl with a pierced nose and black hair, and a tall man in a business suit were closest. The strange way they closed ranks rang profoundly wrong somewhere in the back of Reno's head. He had worked with the best military strategists on the Planet, and he knew what reality was. You couldn't force people like this to fight for you, because they didn't believe in causes. Maybe a few would, sure, but unless money was what they were fighting for there was little chance of success. 

The strange burning, believing look in their eyes made Reno very suddenly, and very completely, afraid.

Quickly, he took the steps down away from the house, hands still in his pockets before turning his back on the approaching crowd. There were more of them spread out all around, he had no doubt, but he wouldn't be caught by surprise. Walking quickly, head down, he let his feet trace their way down the pavement and back towards the market where there would be more cover and more crowds. Up ahead, a thin file of people appeared from around the corner, stretching across the road and blocking the way. It was getting late in the day, and the sinking sun, still behind clouds, did little to help the situation.

Reno suddenly felt very cold, and very out in the open. The white, uniform houses loomed high on either side of him, but they barely registered except as places to hide. The thrill of adrenaline hitting his blood stream reminded him sharply of the 'good old days', and he felt more alone then ever, standing there. 

Moving slowly forwards still, Reno moved his left hand slowly out of his pocket. If he could just get his gun, he might be able to make an opening, and make a run for it. If he could just get back to the apartment building, he'd be at the advantage… Still, he doubted that whoever they were, they'd come completely unarmed. While they'd shown no inclination to just up and kill him yet, it was unlikely they'd remain passive for long if he showed the gun. Still, no help for it.

In the space of a second, Reno dropped to the road, the gun whipping out of its hiding place, dully black and dangerous in the non-light. No time for hesitation. He used the kneeling position to lunge forward, pulling the trigger as he shot up and towards the roadblock. He saw one fall, took careful aim, saw the second go down at the crack of the gun. The next instant, he felt a cold wind brush his cheek as something went flying by at a speed only a metal bullet can achieve. He stopped, then, as behind him, in front of him, and all around him he heard the sound of several dozen guns being loaded in almost perfect unison. Although never one to be afraid, Reno believed right then that it was the most blood-chilling thing he'd ever heard.

The next moment, it was the sound of pounding footsteps that rang through the quiet street, although it took a millisecond too long for Reno to register it. Before anyone had time to react, Reno heard as something hit the curb, and then felt whatever – or whoever – hit him at high speed. He went careening into the grass at the side of the road, and heard the sound of many people now starting to run. He reacted instantaneously, not thinking, pulling himself up only to find that whoever had hit him was still holding his arm tightly. He looked over to see who it was, opened his mouth to say something, and was promptly cut off as he was dragged forward between two houses and into the deep shadows where nothing could be seen at all.

* * *

"Hey, Vincent?"

Vincent looked up from the table where he was sitting, flipping through an old pile of documents that he'd left untouched thirty or so years ago when he'd last been here. 

"…Yes?"

Deth fidgeted in his chair, looking out the large window into the streets below.

"Reno seemed pretty angry when he left. You think it's safe to just let him go? I mean, he didn't exactly tell me, or anything, but we're not really very safe here, are we?"

Vincent returned to staring at the sheaf of papers, turning a page carefully before scanning the new page.

"As safe as anywhere."

"That's informative."

"Until there is no choice, you are safer not knowing. When we are done here, we will be taking you home, where you will return to your life as it was before. There must be no more risks."

Deth's face was unreadable as he stared out at the gray buildings across the way. His dark eyes reflected nothing as he wondered what life would be like after all of this. He had a lot of questions, and he doubted anything could ever be the same until he knew at least some of the answers. He looked up again.

"You still didn't answer my question about Reno. Will he be okay?"

Vincent sighed quietly, putting down the papers once more, closing another window to the past. It was just one more place he did not need to be looking right now.

"I do not know how long we have before our time here runs out, but he is a Turk and is no less dangerous than he ever was."

Deth blinked, letting this sink in.

"Turk…"

He showed no reaction except the slightest surprise. Mentally, Deth took the new information and searched for somewhere to make it fit into the world he'd been given post-Meteor where AVALANCHE were heroes and Shinra had never been anything but pure evil. He did not find it, and gave up. 

Turk.

Deth went back to staring out the window, his face just as blank as Vincent's.

* * *

From their hiding place, Reno and his new companion gazed breathlessly around the corner, trusting to a low overhang and a long metal trash bin to hide them.

Trying to keep silent, Reno took slow, deep breaths. If their position was discovered now, chances were it would all be over. It was a small miracle they'd made it this far. A parallel street from Rude and Elena's had been reached easily enough through the houses, but they'd been pursued quickly. By sheer luck a connecting crescent had given them access to the back roads leading into the market, and they'd been ducking and hiding since. Reno's original plan to head for the populated streets had given out when he'd realized that the ones following him could be anyone and everyone in the crowd.

He looked over at the person beside him. Neither of them had yet to speak, and sucking in a last deep breath, Reno caught her eye.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you again quite this soon."

Yolei's dark eyes flashed, and she pulled her hair back away from her face in a practiced, sweeping motion. She was breathing fast too, but seemed no more tired than Reno, and certainly not out of the running yet. She flashed him a brief smile.

"Hi to you too, Reno."

"Oren."

"Right, Oren. I forgot."

"I don't suppose you're going to explain any of this to me?"

"'Fraid not, no."

"Look, there are whole lot of people out there trying to kill me right now. I think I deserve at least something of an explanation."

Yolei took a deep breath again, and leaned back against the brick wall. The shadows hid them, and they kept their voices low.

"There's not much I can tell you. If I say too much, you'll be in far more danger than you are right now. I'm your ally for now, believe that much, if nothing else."

Reno's blue eyes flashed dangerously, and one hand went to the small piece of paper still in his pocket.

"And earlier? You were following me." 

"I was. I won't deny it."

"You must be pretty damn good at it if I didn't notice."

"Thanks. Coming from you, I'll take that as a complement."

"But what about this address, about Elena and Rude? I'd have known if you were lying."

"Not even the best can catch everyone all the time, Reno. But no, I wasn't lying. I was careful not to, if you must know. El' and I really were friends. I just wish she'd trusted me when I told her I could help."

Reno's thoughts ran back to Rude's note, again and again.

"I don't know if they had reason to trust you. I certainly don't. But even if they did trust you, especially if they trusted you, they wouldn't have wanted you involved."

"You found something at the house, then? If you did, I'm impressed. We searched the place from top to bottom, but didn't find a thing."

"You had to be me, I'm afraid."

"I don't doubt it."

"Look, what is this all about? I need to find them. Yolei, or whatever your real name is, if you're anything you say you are, you'll help me."

Her dark eyes softened a little, although she made no movement.

"My name is Yolei, and I am helping you. Look, this is all I can tell you." She leaned forward, and Reno copied the motion, bringing their faces close together. "It started as something underground, but it's spreading further every day. No one knows who started it, or when, but sometime in the last year and a half a hunt began, and they aren't stopping."

"A hunt?"

"For Shinra."

Reno felt a chill move down his spine.

"Shinra's dead."

"That's why none of this makes sense! If it were only those who had reason to profit from Shinra's resurrection, I could understand it, but it's more than that. Much more. Recently, they've started targeting everyone who has ever been touched by Shinra, and all those around them. After El' and Rude… disappeared, I've had to go invisible or risk becoming a target myself."

She took a deep breath, and Reno watched her, analyzing what she'd said and trying to weigh what she hadn't.

"I still don't understand anything. What's your role in it all? How far has it gotten? What happened to Rude and Elena?"

"I told you that I can't tell you any more. Only… only that it hasn't reached the west yet. You are traveling with Valentine, I know, and though I don't understand how, now a boy as well. I wish I had time to ask you… But I don't. Look, tell Valentine to contact Reeve. Things in Midgar are going to get very ugly very soon, and Jiyuu is going to be the first thing under fire. Valentine should watch himself too, he'll be a target any time now too, if he's not already, and I don't want to have to deal with a dead AVALANCHE member. Understand?"

"No!"

"Good. Look, I'll draw attention while you make a run for the place you're staying. You'll be safe there, at least for a little while. You've got to leave as soon as you possibly can."

"Where am I supposed to go then, hm? Tell me that."

Yolei looked around, tense and ready to run at the first sign of danger.

"If you don't know, nobody does. Only one person managed to escape from their last raid, and he was just a kid. Rude let himself be taken down to make sure he got away, and that means a lot. That he made it to you in Midgar was my last hope."

Reno remembered. Merdan shot, dying on the ground while a crowd watched. Dying in the chair while Reno asked questions and the last of the kid's life slipped away. Dead, and gone from his life while the shadow was left behind. 

Reno said nothing, and remembered the boy's last words. He'd intended to go to Mideel from the beginning anyway, but had figured it was safer to take the long way there. Well, at least he knew now. Yolei watched him carefully.

"You know, then? Is he safe?"

"He's dead. But he reached me first." 

"I'm sorry."

Reno shot Yolei a quick glance, her words triggering a reaction he did not like.

"Don't expect me to tell you anything; you're smarter than that."

"No, don't tell me. What I don't know I can't tell."

Reno nodded, his eyes sharp and unfeeling. 

"If you can give me two minutes, I can make it."

Yolei laughed, quietly, and her smile was the same as it had been on the street, before.

"You really are the best, aren't you? Two minutes? I think I can handle that. I'll buy you as much time as I can. One last thing though."

"What?"

And then she leaned forward and kissed Reno, quickly, pulling him towards her, before drawing back just as quickly. She laughed again, seeing his face.

"I gave you that address hoping to get you away before they decided to make their move. Still, it would have been fun to see if you turned up." She stood up slowly, scanning a last time before moving forward towards the main alley entrance. Her eyes met his, and she was wearing a grin that resembled his almost frighteningly. "Can't promise I'll wait for you, or even that I'll survive the next few weeks, but someday I hope I'll see you again."

"Don't die."

She quirked an eyebrow up, her smile not leaving even knowing she was going right into the middle of danger.

"Aww, do you love me too, Reno?"

"No. Next time I see you you're going to tell me everything you know, and then I'll kill you myself."

She laughed again, softly now, and she gestured in the other direction. Reno turned away, gun at the ready, and prepared to move as fast as he was able.

"It was nice meeting you, Reno. Now run, and don't look back."

With silence and cold stealth, he did, disappearing into the darkness.

**A/N – **Well, I was hoping soon would actually be soon, but unfortunately school calls. Ick. I really hate that. I've still got a history essay to write too. Well, I'm glad I got this finished, and it's my present to you guys in the busiest month of my life. :p I like Yolei because I never intended to write her, and she just kinda showed up. She explains a lot though, really. Although I won't be explaining what any time soon. Mwahahahah. As a note, you won't be seeing Vincent's building or Yolei again for a long time, but don't forget about them. They'll be coming back. 


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Reno moved carefully, cautiously along the street, keeping to the shadows. The further away from the center of the city he got, the less danger he felt, but it was always better to be cautious. After all, he hadn't gotten where he was today – alive – by taking unnecessary chances. The darkness wrapped itself around him as the sun sank slowly behind the clouds from late afternoon towards evening. It had taken him a long time to make it this far; he'd had to stay low and far back while still in the main streets. It was only now as he reached the shoreline that he dared to walk out in the open.

The harbor was back in the northern part of the city; here, even past the underwater facility, there was only water stretching away into the distance. The waves were white capped and dark, and although the street paralleled the shore at a good distance, Reno felt oddly close to the water. It was a mixture of dark blue and green and black, and the smell of salt was harsh in the air along here. Reno found his eyes drifting towards the horizon again and again as he walked, to where the clouds met the ocean and the colors mingled together until it was almost impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

He was breathing fast, he realized. He felt the air entering his lungs in ragged, shallow gasps, and frowning, he forced himself to slow it down, to find the rhythm and pattern of it. He had been running, true, but still it was odd. He was better trained than this, even if he wasn't in top shape. Concentrating on keeping in the background of the empty streets, Reno wondered briefly before pushing it out of his mind. Now was not the time for worrying about irrelevances.

The black pavement seemed to absorb the light as it wound itself further towards the outskirts and nothingness. The air felt heavy, he realized. Almost like it did just before a storm. Looking up, Reno scanned the sky through narrowed eyes. Yes, he was right; the air felt almost like it was charged with electricity but the dark clouds overhead showed no signs of any sudden violence. Very strange. Walking a little faster, Reno continued on towards the security of the large apartment building just a few more blocks away.

There'd been pursuit at first. He didn't doubt that they were still searching for him, but here the open sky felt like better cover than any of the narrow alleys now left far behind. He didn't understand the people who were following him, either, and it bothered him. He'd encountered every kind of militia and task force during his days as a Turk, but this was beyond weird. The way they seemed to almost know where he was going to turn up, but then still manage to lose him after a few streets.

When he'd accidentally stepped onto a market street, he'd watched, frozen, as a dozen or so pairs of eyes rose to meet his. He remembered in particular the dark hazel eyes of a teenage girl with long brown hair, who'd met his eyes with a strange mix of hatred and quiet enjoyment. They moved like regular people; despite everything, that's what he suspected they were. All of them were no older than himself, and they slipped through the crowds with a familiarity that hinted at the fact that they were probably Junon natives. They knew the streets, and seemed to have an uncanny ability to turn up in the right place at the right time, but nothing more than that.

How had Elena and Rude been caught by a group like that? Sheer numbers, perhaps. If they'd been unarmed, he suspected that the battle would not have gone well for them. And Merdan. Even if Rude had had the chance to get away, he'd given it up to give the boy a chance. Knowing exactly how that part of the story ended made the anger rise again. And now, when he was getting closer to the answer, that damned letter told him to run. Of course, Reno had no doubt that Rude had known what he was talking about; he'd felt the sense or urgency in the words too, but still…

Reno had always known that the world wouldn't stop if he told it too. If he died, he'd be just another nameless face in the gutter, while the world went on. It was a truth that all Turks became too familiar with in the weeks, months or years they lived to continue their work. It was a strange way to live, and it brought you close together with the ones you worked with because, hey, they're the only ones who know the same things you know, who feel the same things you feel. The Turks were an isolated society, and although Reno had never been one to pass up the social aspect of his job he knew it was true.

He'd always done whatever he wanted, and hung around with whoever he wanted. It had never mattered, because at the end of the day, it was always his dark company apartment he went back to, and always the Turks he rejoined with a quiet smile in the morning. That, he supposed, was home.

Rude knew him best of all. Rude had been in training two months before Reno came along, and he'd gone out of his way to make life hell for the 'rookie' at every chance. They'd been rivals, enemies on the field, and when they were suddenly promoted to full Turks, allies against the rest of the world. They'd worked under several different leaders, and had seen new faces come and go. In the end it was only the two of them that had stayed, by skill or sheer luck was always debatable. And that was the way it had been until Tseng came along, filling the role of boss, enemy, friend. And Elena, later, towards the end.

Sometimes, now, Reno wondered if it had ever happened at all. Other days, he wondered if he was dreaming now and soon he'd wake up back in his old life with a mission lined up and an angry Tseng glaring at him for sleeping in. The only other alternative was that this was reality, that life had taken him this far and had left no clue as to how to go backwards or forwards. Out of the three, he wasn't sure which was worst.

What light there was was fading fast now, and the faint sunlight that had come from behind the clouds was disappearing altogether. The place felt slightly unreal in the darkness, with the sound of the waves on the beach below, and the flat, gray sky above. Lights were beginning to come on here and there, glass windowpanes scattering it in every direction. But ever this seemed muted in the buzzing air, and everything felt dull and expectant, almost as though it were waiting. Reno was fairly certain he didn't want to be here to find out what for, either.

Slowly, the tall building came into view. It stood out to him now, tall and stately in a place full of buildings that crouched and skulked at the side of the road. How someone could not notice it still eluded him, but he knew now for certain that he'd seen it before and had walked right past, never knowing. It was a strangely unsettling and vaguely creepy feeling. Reno wondered if Tseng had known about it, because if anyone would have, it would have been him. He would never know now, though, and that was Reno's last thought as he glanced quickly around before darting across the street, up the front steps, through the doors and into the building.

* * *

  
Outside, on the street, a girl with hazel eyes and long brown hair watched as the door clicked silently closed behind a disappearing shadow. She smiled softly, massaging her wrist, trying to bring some warmth to her pale fingers. They were very cold. Tonight, she reflected, as she disappeared back into the shadows she had come from, someone would find out how cold. The only thing left behind was the sound of muted footsteps, those of shoes still lined with dry seaweed. 

* * *

The apartment was full of light when Reno opened the door, his silver key turning fluidly in the lock. It also smelled very oddly like some kind of curry, and he closed the door behind him before locking it carefully. Kicking off his shoes, he let the warmth and light drift over him before digging his hands into his pockets and following the smell. All of his earlier anger towards Vincent had disappeared, leaving behind only a faint sense of urgency. No matter how safe this place felt, it was time to go.

As Reno rounded the corner into the kitchen, Deth looked up from a large plate of noodles, which he was seemed to be going through quite quickly. Swallowing hurriedly, he smiled, and pointed with an elaborate hand gesture at a pot on the stove.

"Saved you some. Vincent said I shouldn't, but I figured that everybody gets hungry, right?"

Reno laughed an only slightly forced laugh, and made his way over to the pot. As he opened it, steam came rushing out, along with heat and more of that wonderful smell that made him realize that he hadn't eaten all day. Deth looked a little anxious.

"It's okay, right?"

Reno laughed again.

"Kid, you have no idea. I think you might be my new official hero." They both smiled. "Where'd you get the food anyway? There wasn't any here this morning, I can tell you that much."

"Oh, that's easy. At lunch it got kind of obvious that I was really hungry, so Vincent and I went out and got some food. There's a nice little shop just around the corner."

"You… didn't have any trouble, did you?"

"No… Why? Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

Deth looked worried. Reno remembered how the kid had reacted to find himself here earlier that very morning. Yeah, he could understand why the boy might be kinda scared of a repeat performance, or something.

"No. Yes. No." Regretfully, Reno laid the pot lid of the counter before glancing sadly at the empty plate on the counter. "Where's Valentine anyhow?"

"Mm. He's in his study. He probably heard you come in, so don't worry. He looked kind of like something was bothering him, so if I were you, I'd wait 'til he comes out. Have something to eat."

Almost glad for the excuse, Reno didn't hesitate again. There was no time for delay, but the woman who called herself Yolei had seemed to think there was time enough. Well, if Valentine still hadn't put in an appearance afterwards, well, then he'd go bug him. For now though, Reno slid into a chair across from Deth at the table, and they exchanged grins over the amount of food on the plate.

"So, kid. You're going home soon, right? You got a girlfriend waiting for you or something?"

Deth stopped eating and started to cough. Reno's grin widened a little.

"So's that a yes?"

"No!"

"I was just asking." His smirk betrayed him.

"…The only girl I could like… like that, well, she's one of my best friends, so you know…"

"Heh. You didn't have to turn red, kid."

"I'm not!"

"Anyways, it was just a question. No need to get touchy."

There was a silence for a moment as they both ate, although it was a friendly one. When Deth looked up again, he did his best to match Reno's grin.

"How about you? You got a girlfriend back in Midgar?"

Reno didn't answer for a second, and then shook his head.

"No. Doesn't work that way."

"Well… You ever been in love?"

"Why the interest? Could it be that your girl is more than a friend?"

This time there was no hiding the red blush that crept up Deth's cheeks. He stared resolutely at his plate.

"Maybe… maybe I was thinking, you know, when I get back… maybe I could ask her…"

Reno laughed softly again, although his eyes had a funny sharp look to them.

"Go for it."

"But what if she says no!?"

"If she's really your friend, she'll stay your friend. Friends stick by each other no matter what happens, and that's what's really important. Don't forget it."

Reno quickly finished off his plate and stood up. Deth looked up at him before following his example and standing too. He followed Reno over towards the sink.

"Hey, you never answered my question."

"No."

"What… never?"

"Nope."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now quit with all the questions. We've got some dishes to wash, so lets get through that so I can go vampire hunting."

They piled the plain white dishes into the sink, and Reno grabbed a cloth sitting on the counter leaving Deth to wash. Deth protested, but he was soundly fought back with the cloth. Laughing, he proceeded to wash the dishes as Reno dried them and found spots for them in the oddly full cupboards. When they were nearly done, Deth attacked Reno with soap bubbles, and the retaliatory counter-attack left a good part of the kitchen wet and Deth needing to change into a non-soaking shirt.

Finally after everything was done, Reno wandered into the sitting room with the giant window overlooking the street. From here, the distant water just looked like a black sheet that stretched on forever. He still felt the buzzing in the air, although it was less pronounced here. No time to waste at all.

"An interesting picture at night."

Reno turned around in the dark room to face the open door in front of which stood Vincent. His face was mostly hidden by the dark, although he just wore a plain red shirt. The light from the kitchen cascaded down the two steps and into the room, but it fell short of either of them and seemed very far away. Reno watched Vincent for another moment before turning back to the window.

"We have to leave. Maybe tonight."

"I know."

"Any idea how long we have?"

"…Perhaps dawn."

Vincent approached the window as well, and the dim light from outside lit his face a little. Red eyes glinted faintly.

"What did you discover?"

"That things are a lot more fucked than I was hoping."

Vincent said nothing, and Reno did not turn around.

"They were completely gone. There was a note for me… It said to run. I know El' and Rude, and nothing scares them. And then the people who came after me… they were just city people. They weren't particularly fast, or strong, and although they knew their way around they were just… kids, most of them. I just don't get it."

He shook his head.

"And then this woman… she called herself Yolei." He turned his head sharply to look at Vincent. "Do you know her?"

Vincent thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"…No. Although I have a guess who she might have been."

"Care to let me know?"

"No. Not now."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Reno didn't disguise the bitter tone. "Anyway, she told me that this whole thing's about Shinra. Can you believe that?"

"Yes."

Reno frowned, facing Vincent altogether now.

"What? I think I'm missing a lot here."

"I know no more than you."

"Then why don't I believe you? It doesn't matter, I guess. All she told me was that they were after all former Shinra employees, and that you and I would be targets. I don't believe her, but I don't think I can afford not to, either."

Vincent remained silent.

"Even if she was telling the truth, why in hell would people do that? Shinra's dead. It's never coming back, believe me. Why would this happen all of a sudden, just like that?"

"Call it social hypnosis."

Deth was standing on the step between the hall and the room, wearing a shirt that was far too big for him. He was silhouetted by the light in the kitchen, and his white hair looked even more strangely ethereal than normal. He took a step forward.

"Think about it. It's not sudden, not at all. Like me… For two years all I've been told is that Shinra was evil, Shinra was the reason everything bad happened. It doesn't matter if it's true or not. That's not the point. If I didn't know better and somebody pointed out an ex-Shinra and told me they wanted to start everything all over again, yeah, I'd probably be mad."

Reno studied Deth carefully in the half-light, his eyes betraying nothing.

"Would you hate them? Kill them?"

"I…" He stopped for a second. "On just somebody's word? No. I wouldn't." He walked carefully over to stand next to Reno. Looking down at him, Reno noticed that the tips of his hair were still damp from the incident in the kitchen. He did not smile. Deth went on.

"But people… people are scared. I mean… Meteor changed everything. Nothing will ever be the same again, you know what I mean? Everything's different now, and people, well, they're scared that if they don't take control of it it'll go back to like it was before, or worse. I'm not saying what's happening is right," he added hastily. "I just mean that you have to be careful, because they will always be afraid.

"Everyone from Shinra either faded into the background or is now leading a new all-powerful corporation. They were scared too, and didn't know what to do, if people would like them now. So most of them hid, and the people, well, they don't know how to live with them either. The whole order of things changed, and they've never had any practice living with things the new way."

He laughed suddenly.

"Am I making any sense at all?"

Reno just smiled the ghost of a smile.

"You are one smart kid. I'll give you that."

Deth met his eyes, and shot back a half smile. Vincent slowly came over to stand next to the other two.

Out, over the water, the clouds parted a little and the moon was finally visible in the sky. It was a little over half full, and the faint light lit the faces watching. The ocean beneath looked, if anything, even blacker than before, and the white light stained the branches of trees along the shore, making them look momentarily like bones rattling in the wind. It was Vincent that finally spoke again.

"…It's going on nine now. We will be leaving before dawn. Make all necessary preparations before then."

Silently, they moved away from the window, each in their own direction. Deth made determinedly for the kitchen while Vincent disappeared once more into the blackness of his study. Reno hesitated a moment, before looking out the window one last time. Clouds skidded across the moon, and the light reflected oddly on everything, throwing strange shadows. Before turning to leave, Reno drew the curtains, leaving the room in darkness once again.

* * *

Standing in front of the mirror, Reno let the water run, his hands resting on the edge of the sink. Looking in the mirror, blue eyes met blue in the dark; he hadn't bothered to turn the light on. Quickly, he broke his gaze away, splashing water on his face with a strange feeling washing over him. He reached for a towel, but found nothing. For a moment he imagined he felt another hand grabbing for his and voices shouting. With a sharp breath, he whipped his hand back. He noticed light-headedly that his both his hands were shaking.

He suddenly realized that he felt very cold, and that the chances of him making it back to his room right now were very slim. He didn't feel like he could walk, and the weird panic struggling to get out didn't help. Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor, letting his back and head rest against the cabinet. No, it wasn't just his hands now either. He was shaking all over, and he didn't have the willpower to stop it. Just sitting, he wrapped his arms around his knees and wished like hell he'd stopped on his flight through the market to pick up something to drink.

He felt hollow and not hollow, and he couldn't stop the shaking. Silently, not daring to move, he hoped that time was moving faster for Deth and Valentine than it was in his head. They weren't voices; just memories. But still they echoed in his head as though they were happening for the first time. He thought about yelling for help, but found no voice to yell with. The cold tile under him and the dark sky all around him, he felt a flash of vertigo as he began to fall and fall.

Still he remained, sitting in the corner, staring into the dark.

**A/N –** Yay for interpretable endings! - Hehe. No, seriously though. Sorry about that. I promise you that nothing's wrong with Reno. Well, not seriously. Okay, at least nothing I did to him. I was thinking about his character in this story, and how he's so many opposites. I told a friend once that the only way this Reno was ever going to be okay again is if he was broken entirely and put back together. I suspect I may have been right. Poor Reno. He has some serious problems, and we still have a LONG way to go yet. This chapter is actually a lot stranger than I intended, and I blame this entirely on Seether, Evanescence, Hawksley Workman and Depeche Mode. Especially those last guys. They're weird. ;


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**  
  
He was walking through darkness. All around him, he could see nothing that defined this place, nothing to show where the nothingness began and the nothingness ended. Around him he could hear the echo of footsteps, distorted by emptiness, and he couldn't tell if they were his or not. He wanted to stop and listen to see if the steps continued, but he didn't. He did not want to know, not really.  
  
Slowly, he realized, he could see something up ahead. No, that wasn't right. There was still nothing to see; too many shadows still lay between here and the end. But he could feel something up there, away, and he knew that someone was waiting for him there, somehow.  
  
He wondered, detachedly, if he'd finally found Elena and Rude. It felt like he'd been looking for them for so long now. But how was he supposed to find them in the darkness? Strange, that he'd never wondered that before. But still, if he kept walking, kept moving through the dark than he would have to get there eventually.  
  
Only, the steps sounded strange in his ear. Chancing a glance down, he saw his feet moving differently, not forward, but Back. He realized he'd been walking backwards for longer than he could remember. He tried to struggle, tried to gain control of his own movements, failed. He felt panic rising as each step carried him further away from the end, further Back.  
  
But back was okay. He wouldn't mind going back. That was when he had been happiest, he supposed. Back when he'd felt anything at all. But no, he wasn't just going back; he was going Back, and that scared him more than anything else could have. Again, he fought to run, to scream, to die if it would help, but nothing changed in the dark and the shadows. Each step sounded fainter now, further away, although how that could be he didn't know. All he felt now was fear and anger, because to go Back would mean that eventually he'd have to go forward again, and this time it would kill him.  
  
And then, he wasn't moving anymore, and though the darkness ahead of him hadn't changed, he knew that the nothingness had wrapped itself around him, closing the way. Slowly, he turned.  
  
He was standing on the edge of a lake, so close that the slightest quick movement could send him falling in. He wanted to step back, but when he moved to, something in the water caught his attention. As he tried to see what it was, it occurred to him that he couldn't be standing by a lake, certainly not a real one. There was no lake in Midgar.  
  
Had he been in Midgar? No, he hadn't, so of course the lake was here. He had left Midgar. But that didn't make sense either, because you didn't leave Midgar. He remembered distantly watching it fade away behind him, but he couldn't be certain if he'd dreamed it or not. He realized, then, that he'd never felt hurt, or lost, or anywhere but the nowhere. Quickly, he reached into his pocket and felt his fingers close around something small, hard, and infinitely cold. When he pulled it out, he stared at a perfect miniature of the city of lights and night. It was strange, because it was two cities at once; the one it had been and the one it was now, but that made sense too when he thought about it. No, he understood now that he couldn't leave it, not really, but in a moment of panic he lashed out and watched as the tiny city hit the water of the lake without a ripple.  
  
There was no lake in Midgar, but now Midgar was in the lake, right where it had always been. He couldn't see it anymore after that, because although the water was clear it was dark. Still, he knew that it was there, not at the bottom, but everywhere.  
  
When he looked again, he could see the thing that had caught his attention before, and better this time. The colors below shifted and changed; first a lazy orange, then a brilliant red. Something was burning down there, he could see it. When he bent over to try to see what it was, the world shifted perspective and everything became hazy.  
  
Now, he was under the water. He could feel fingers digging into his shoulder, holding him down as he fought half-heartedly to regain the surface. He could feel the cold water pressing all around him, and he suddenly realized that everything else had just been the misfiring of his oxygen-deprived brain. He'd been here, in the cold, drowning for a long time. And now, he knew he was going to die and he fought because he didn't like that end. Not here. Even the nothingness was better than this.  
  
He struggled, and tried to see who it was that was doing this. The water lapped above him, hiding most of the face of whoever it was. She was a woman, with strange eyes. More than that he couldn't see. Was she the one who'd been waiting for him at the end of the shadows? Was this where everything inevitably led? But no, this was the Back he'd been terrified of, and she'd been with him, like Midgar, with Midgar, every step of the way.  
  
He could feel the world darkening now, and he wished that he had his blue jacket, because even if nothing else would help him, it would. At the very least, it would numb the cold. He'd lost it down here, though, somewhere, and he looked around to see if he could find it. And yes, there it was, just as he remembered it, sinking ever so slowly down towards the bottom. And strangely, it was burning. Of course, that had been what he'd seen – but he hadn't seen it, had he – and it burned always without being consumed.  
  
With a last desperation he was happy to feel, he reached out for it, tried wildly to pull it to him. At first, he'd thought he'd fail. But then, suddenly, he felt his hand brush it, and he tried to grab hold of it, but it singed his hand where it made contact. He tried to yell, but no sound came from the depths. He pulled his hand back, feeling the pain buzzing through him, and when he looked at it, it was burning too. No, not just that. All of him. He was burning. And still the icy fingers above never relaxed their grip, and, the pain searing through him, he tried one last time to fight back.  
  
He felt his hands come into contact with the woman's shoulders, and push weakly, too weakly, and then she was drowning beneath the water and he was the one holding her down. He wasn't burning, either – of course not. When had that been? But he could see the woman now, or at least see her eyes. He stared at her as he felt her stop struggling, felt all resistance leave. Blank green-brown eyes stared up at him from the water, from an icy, pale face.  
  
He'd seen drowned people before – he'd seen just about every kind of dead person before – but for some reason horror and disgust tore through him and he jerked his hands away as if he'd been burned. Had he been burned? No, that wasn't it. He was trembling all over again, but he had to look to know if he was crazy, if she'd be gone the next time he looked. He hoped he was insane. But she was still there, just below the surface, watching him with her dead eyes.  
  
That was when he truly knew he was Back. The order was wrong, but he felt it more than anything else in this isolated world. He knew, then, what happened next, and he felt the coldness below his shoulder blade where he knew the dagger would drive in. He closed his eyes and hoped he died fast.  
  
The sensation of the cold metal, and the pain that followed drew an involuntary gasp, and his body went rigid.  
  
Reno opened his eyes.  
  
He was in the dark again. Only, this time, as his eyes adjusted, he was in a place he recognized. His room, actually. How had he gotten here? He didn't really remember that well. Only that sometime in the past couple of hours he must have gotten back, although how and when he hadn't a clue. He felt terrible, he realized next. A quick check confirmed that his hands were no longer shaking, but he felt cold and sick, and more than a little like his head had fallen off somewhere along the way.  
  
Looking around, Reno observed that he was sitting against the wall next to his door. Hadn't made it as far as his bed, apparently. Well, better here than elsewhere. He was willing to wager that it would be a rather bad idea to let Valentine know that he wasn't holding together as well as he'd hoped. No, definitely a bad idea. And the kid would also definitely be better off not knowing. He was just going to have to hope that he'd had enough brain cells working to avoid them when he'd gotten back here. If not, well, there might be some awkward questions and, worst- case scenario, Valentine might decide he was no longer useful.  
  
Slowly, using the wall as something to steady himself with, Reno slid his way back into the world of the standing. He felt light-headed and sick as he did so, and a weird ringing in his ears didn't help much either. The dizziness was manageable, however, so he made his way very slowly and very carefully towards the bed. The first step was the worst, but once he got the momentum he made it over quickly and without problems. Reno collapsed with some degree of relief onto the bed, just letting himself enjoy the contrast to the hard wall. His back was not going to be his friend in the morning.  
  
Speaking of morning, what time was it? Weren't the three of them supposed to be leaving at dawn? Quickly, Reno looked to the clock for reassurance. And found none. Bright, bleary red letters proclaimed that it was just after three am, and Reno immediately pushed himself somewhat regretfully back off the bed.  
  
""Shit..."  
  
Very little time to waste. He hadn't been out for that long, but too long all the same. On the bright side, he had very little to pack since he hadn't actually brought anything, but he would have to appear at least marginally alive and competent.  
  
Alright, what he really needed was a change of clothes and a stiff drink. Still, unless he really wanted to steal Valentine's clothes again, both of those were no-goes. Damn. Well, it couldn't really be helped. The only bright side was that the next destination on the travel itinerary was Costa del Sol, and if you couldn't get some good hard liquor there than the world was ending. Again.  
  
The next pressing question was why was this happening to him now? If it had happened in Midgar, it wouldn't have been that much of a problem. Then again, it might have seen him well and truly dead, but that was besides the point. Why now? The easy answer was that it wasn't just now. It had happened in Midgar before, and Reno knew it. It was the typically easy way out to just deny everything and blame it all on the fact that he hadn't had a decent drink since he started hanging around Valentine. Undoubtedly that was a good part of it, but he knew he'd just be lying to himself if he pretended it was all.  
  
Whatever. Turks didn't have nervous breakdowns or whatever they were. Sure, he'd had a rough time after Meteor when Shinra hadn't been around to pump enhancer shit through his veins. But that was a long time ago, and six months had been long enough to clear his system of the dilute Mako drugs. So why? If someone said stress, he'd have just laughed. Stress? He'd been through a hell of a lot worse than this many, many times before. Hadn't he? Of course. With every mission he'd laid his life on the line, and there was no job like that for someone who'd crack under pressure. Along with Tseng and Rude, he'd been one of the coolest Turks Shinra had seen in decades. Right.  
  
Well, for the short term at least, it wasn't anything to worry about. Alright, maybe it was. But he didn't have the time to worry now about anything other than finding Elena and Rude, and then getting the hell back home. That was his job, and it was what he owed the two of them as fellow Turks. Nothing else concerned him. Other people could deal with the rest of the crap; this was all that mattered, and then he could go back to the shadows where he was happiest. Either that or he'd be dead.  
  
Reno got to his feet again, feeling a little better now. He looked pale, and his blue eyes glittered darkly in the lightless room, but at least he felt he could make it across the room okay now. Definitely a lot better. Well, it was time to move and get ready, or Valentine would start to suspect something was wrong. There was no time to delay because every hour they wasted was one too many, and somewhere out there Rude and Elena were waiting.  
  
It was a now-or-never situation, and there was no going Back now.

* * *

It was late morning in Midgar, and the weak sunlight washed across the concrete, giving it a faded, white look. The day was overcast, but the worst of the weather patterns had avoided the area. The day was warm and almost unpleasantly humid despite being so far north. An out-of-season wind blowing up from Mideel had slowed the progress of the blinking, bustling city.  
  
Cloud surveyed what they had to get done that afternoon as the work crew set up for a hard day's effort. Ropes had already been set up around the perimeter to warn away pedestrians who risked getting injured in the clean up, and the dark orange uniforms of the crew made them easily visible. Cloud, who had set up the group originally, although now it was officially backed by Reeve, had chosen the color. It didn't remind him of anything. He didn't smile now as he looked around at the debris filled area, although normally he let himself become completely absorbed in any project. This was, however, the second last major area clean up left before everything was finally finished. Then it would all be packed up neatly and shipped off to Corel and Gongaga before heading to Wutai, Rocket Town and Mideel. There was just so much to do.  
  
He'd left this place until very nearly last, though.  
  
Standing on the edge of the playground outside of Sector Six in the area that had once been called Wall Market, Cloud was alone. No one spoke to him as they set up the exit way for the cement trucks, assuming he was assessing the damage. They were mostly right.  
  
Cloud cast a long shadow in the light as he stared at the crushed swing set, twisted and bent beneath a slab of metal that had fallen from the sky what seemed so long ago. The white children's slide with the grinning cat's face stood with a beam sticking out of it at a sharp angle. One eye was smashed, while the other still watched with a kind of eternal optimism, weathered by the rain and winds.  
  
Cloud looked at it, and felt nothing.  
  
They would take it all away, and it would be gone like all the rubble over what had once been Sector Seven. They would rebuild it of course: Midgar needed more places for children, and it would be bigger and better than ever before. Cloud remembered sitting on top of the slide, and thinking that the world looked awfully far away, despite how close to the ground he was. He remembered climbing those steps, and his hand twitched involuntarily at the memory of the tough white plastic under his fingers.  
  
They would expand the sandbox the slide stood in, put in a bigger one so that the children would come here to play again. Maybe it was a lost cause; people said the place was haunted now, he knew. No matter how long ago they'd carted away the last of the rubble, or how long ago they'd put the finishing touch on the last house, no one had forgotten Sector Seven. They said ghosts walked here, and Cloud almost believed them. He remembered when they'd been digging through Sector Seven as the first major project, and how he'd felt a coldness deep inside him when he found a broken, torn piece of the sign that had once said Seventh Heaven. Maybe ghosts didn't walk here, but memories did, and they were much the same.  
  
There was only one place left after this, and no one questioned why it was last. Unlike the rest, it wouldn't be torn down. No matter how broken and forgotten it was, it would be fixed up to the beauty of what it had once been, and then it would be forgotten. Cloud had already given instructions that all scaffolding to reconstruct the roof or put in new glass windows was in no way to disturb the flowers.  
  
Standing in the sand, looking at the little white slide, Cloud felt nothing and said nothing. It would change because everything had to change, he knew. They would tear down the smiling cat, and the plastic that had made it, what could be saved, would be melted down and used, unknown, somewhere where it would never be seen or remembered again. He turned, to give the go ahead.  
  
Before he spoke, something caught his attention out of the corner of one eye. A flash of white, and nothing more. Frowning slightly, Cloud turned back and best down to see what it was. Everything but the largest and most dangerous beams had already been cleared away. A piece of paper fluttered lightly, trapped under a corner of the slide. Almost involuntarily, Cloud reached out slowly, the back of his hand brushing the white plastic in a way that made something lurch inside him. Shutting it out, he pulled the paper loose and turned it over.  
  
A photograph stared up at him, shades of brown and black. For a moment he felt cold again, the way he had that day, many months ago. He stared at the little picture, silent, beside the little slide.  
  
"Hey, boss? Everything okay?"  
  
A tall man with brown hair in an orange uniform looked concerned. Cloud stood up quickly, slipping the photo into his pocket. He smiled and headed back towards the waiting workers.  
  
"Everything's fine. We should be good to go."  
  
He kept smiling, but he did not watch as they tore down the little slide. And in the shadows of his pocket, a photograph lay that matched one burned into his memory. A tall silver haired man stood, arms crossed loosely over his black coat, beside him a smaller woman with dark brown hair and a cowboy hat grinned. Cloud walked away with only the coldness following him.  
  
On the other side of the photo stood a man with black hair and dark, smiling eyes. He stared out, the hint of a smile resonating with a memory that he knew was false, but that still whispered deep inside.  
  
Across the bottom was printed in careful black letters; "Don't Forget."

* * *

They left as first light found the darkened streets. The three of them made an odd group, although there was no one around to see them. The city streets were oddly silent after the strange attack only hours earlier. Sticking to the fading shadows, Vincent, Deth and Reno moved quietly and quickly away from signs of light and life, and not even Deth talked to fill the silence.  
  
Their footsteps made no sound on the pavement as they went; the glimmer of color on the horizon seemed to suck away all sound. With the city still wrapped mostly in dark blue, everything felt wide and empty and hollow. Particularly, the roads and paths leading towards the ocean seemed the most peaceful and calm. There was no hostility in the quiet morning, not even the watchfulness or the tense anxiety of the evening before. No trace of anything that had happened remained, just as no trace of the passage of three silhouettes would be left when daylight spilled back across the familiar streets.  
  
Reno was conflicted.  
  
He walked with his head down as their way led them slowly away from the center of the city; it was much too dangerous to take a chance on the main harbor where they'd come in. There was a smaller ship yard outside of the city, run by an independent shipping company that specialized in trade between Corel and Junon, although Costa del Sol was a major supply stop on most trips. Vincent had suggested it, and Reno had not asked how he knew.  
  
Valentine was more of a mystery than he'd ever guessed, and Reno had always considered himself good at reading people. He always knew when to laugh, when to be serious, when to lie. But Valentine... he was something else. Every Turk honed instinct in Reno screamed that he shouldn't trust the gunman more than he absolutely had to, but something else whispered that there was more here than met the eye. True, Vincent had been an enemy as part of AVALANCHE, and then again only days ago – it seemed insane how fast things were happening – but... But what? He didn't know.  
  
Mostly it was what had happened back at the apartment. Even here, running headfirst towards who knew what, every part of the image was etched into his brain. True he had a professionally trained memory for detail, but this stood out. It was also true, though, that vivid memories were nothing new to him.  
  
They'd been standing in the marble hall of the strange building as the tall man - awake and waiting for them with a smile – made a final transaction with Vincent. Deth had been staring at the replica Mako fountain in half-exhausted admiration. With the dark shadows under his eyes betraying the recent lack of sleep, he'd looked even more like the young kid he was than usual. Reno had busied himself with looking at the ceiling and the floor.  
  
Valentine had come up to him, just before they left, and Reno had reached into his pocket to retrieve the silver key. Before he could pull it free, however, Vincent had shaken his head, his crimson eyes more unreadable than ever. He'd spoken quickly and quietly, his stare never wavering.  
  
"Keep it. If you are ever in need of aid, come here. They will help you even if no one else will."  
  
Before Reno could ask what he meant or why Vincent was implying he wouldn't be around when this mysterious event occurred, he was walking away, out the door as his cape caught in the night breeze and curled around him.  
  
Even now he could feel the small silver key deep in his pocket. Tying not to think about it, Reno curled his fingers around it, and tried to force his brain towards other topics. Another good one was how soon they would reach Costa del Sol. The sooner, the damn well better. It had always been one of his favorite haunts way back when, and the thought of settling back into the place, the habit, was almost too tempting. In all the months in the dark in Midgar he'd always wanted to go back at least once before whatever happened happened. But not now. If he let go before he knew what had happened to El' and Rude... No, not now. He could wait to die until later.  
  
The air was a little cold tonight, and the promise of distant warm beaches called through the early morning darkness. Their current destination was across a long stretch of sand, and they cut away from the road to make it the shortest distance possible. None of them wanted to be exposed for longer than necessary, especially not on a bare road. As they began to move towards the shoreline, Reno shot a glance at Vincent.  
  
He walked quietly – the same way he did everything – and he stayed close to the kid. Reno's eyes trailed over to Deth, careful not to be noticed. He walked on. The tiredness written in every line of the kid's body made him wince a little. Reno did a little mental calculation, and it seemed highly unlikely that Deth had actually had any real amount of sleep for a good while. For a fourteen year old who was used to regular meals/sleep/security, this was one hell of an introduction to life on the other side. Well, at least he would be able to crash on the boat, and after that he'd really be home. The thought made Reno smile a little in the dark.  
  
The white sand shifted under his feet as he walked. He considered briefly offering to help the kid, but decided against it. Undoubtedly Deth would turn him down and just make more of an effort to hide how tired he was. As a kid who'd spent the last two years on the nicest beaches of the Western continent, this was probably not new scenery. Still, Reno took a minute to admire the view for both their sakes. Watching the ocean always made something click inside him, and he enjoyed just listening to the sounds of the waves, the birds, and whatever else was passing by.  
  
He turned his attention towards the distant lights, his thoughts tracing the steps ahead of them. There was a ways to go before Deth could collapse, but he'd have time to pull himself together before they arrived in the next city.  
  
Eyes looking forward, Reno never saw the dark shadow standing indecisively along the edge of the water. No taller than Deth, it wavered, hesitated, and did not move. No one saw it, and no one would see the fourth set of footsteps that started half way down the beach, having come from no where, and ended at the waves before disappearing entirely. By morning the tide and wind would have taken care of that.  
  
For now, a shadow watched invisible in the night as three figures headed towards the lights that would take them across the ocean.

**A/N –** Whew... It's been too long. Sorry for the extended and unintended break guys. I just had to hide for a while, but it's all good now. Heh. I'd like to say special thanks to T. Pirate as always for advice, support, entertainment, whatever. Sorry for the gratuitous capitalization. Keep going with Salvation, because I love that story, and if you don't I'll be forced to smack you. By the way, I found you a good Tseng song you might like to hear... Eheheh. Anyway... Thanks also to JessAngel, and thanks for the tip off on the then/than thing. I'll try to watch for it more. It's awesome to have you back. 


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